Harden My Heart
by redjadequeen
Summary: Billy Hargrove has a big crush on Heather Holloway and is in deep denial about it. (no supernatural elements, deviates from canon, alternate timeline, pre-season 3, eventual smut, romance, drama, heather is rich, billy is a jerk.)
1. ask me if i care

Chapter One: Ask Me If I Care.

* * *

The thing about Heather Holloway is that she isn't supposed to be in Billy's life. He's tried so hard to make sure of that; works at it daily.

She's an upper class girl. A kind girl. A pretty girl. A girl with dark curls in a scrunchie, wearing bangles obnoxiously thick for her sharp wrists. Doe-eyes that people innately trust. Lips that curve in an enticing slope whenever she opens her sweet mouth. _Too _sweet. The kind of sweet that sinks into Billy's marrow like a cancer. He hates her immediately, avoids her at all costs, would rather bite off his own tongue than acknowledge her.

So for weeks they never say a single word to each other. The few times she lays eyes on him he shoots her a look so nasty that she averts her gaze instantly. He knows speaking to her would open the floodgates to some sort of inconceivable chaos. He doesn't know how he knows that, but the adrenaline that spikes whenever he sees the back of her dainty head is more than enough warning. He doesn't usually have that kind of reaction to anyone. To anything. The closest sensation is that stomach-turning awareness he gets when he hears his father's car pull into the driveway every evening. But that isn't really the same. This is different, more potent in its unfamiliarity.

It's been no use though. There's a cruel force that keeps her near him. They strangely enter senior year at Hawkins High on the same week in late October; have all the same dull classes; are exactly four rusty lockers away from each other. Their names are frequently called back-to-back during roll call. _Hargrove. Holloway _. They manage to arrive at and exit the same school doors at the same time everyday. It's a goddamn conspiracy. Being in Hawkins is already depressing enough, but Heather is the sticky icing on the bleakest cake. He can taste it, rich and heavy with something...what is it? _Trouble _. Definitely trouble. It's a relief that they live on opposite sides of town.

Despite all this purposeful avoidance, Billy has an uneasy gut-sensation that one day their lives _will _collide. And that once they do, the force of the impact will decimate him, turning him to particles of ash.

It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Billy has his first real taste of Heather when he runs into her in the most unlikely place; his own front door step.

It's one of those lazy, drawn-out Sundays when it's just him and his younger step-sister Max biding time. It's mid November and freezing. Neil and Susan are out on their weekly shopping venture and Billy's not doing his homework like he said he would. Instead, he's pumping iron, blaring Van Halen; the clinking steel and pouring sweat a balm over the irritated sore that won't heal: that he's trapped in Hawkins. In _Hell._

The doorbell rings and there's no chance he's going to answer it. Max _always _gets the door on Sundays. She's almost acceptable in that sense; most of the time she actually listens to him. _Most _of the time. He was going to work on that.

She stomps out into his workout space, blue eyes turbulent, red hair a flame behind her. "Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm getting it."

Billy's eyes are on the stucco ceiling, breathing tightly controlled, and the sudden awareness of David Lee Roth singing _"Ain't got no love that you'd call real" _bites into his current rep.

Then Max is saying his name. "Billy. _Billy! _"

Groaning, he sets his barbell down on the rack, feeling blood rush back into his hands. Max is by his side now, standing over him. The chill air rushing in from the open door makes his arms break out in goosebumps. "What?"

"Uh, a girl's asking for the adult of the house." She smirks, "I guess you're close enough?"

Billy runs a hand down his sweat-streaked face, reaches for a towel. "Jesus, it's probably just one of those donation assholes. Tell her to fuck off." But Max is already half-way to her room, her small form disappearing behind a corner. Billy's too physically tired to yell at her just now; he'll tell her off later. He pulls himself up with a reluctant sigh, wiping the remnants of sweat from his brow. He trudges to the entrance, planning a little speech to get rid of the intruder. But then he sees just _who _'s standing in the doorway, profile to him, that curly hair blowing around her shoulders. _Heather Holloway._

_Fuck._

Heather's head turns, sees him; she smiles apprehensively. "Hi..." She's holding a thick stack of neon-yellow flyers in her arms.

Billy stalks into the doorway, the pulse in his ears deafening. For some reason his hands are clenched into fists, nail digging into palm. His eyes are steely as he gives her an unsettling once-over before snapping them to her heart-shaped face. "What do you want?" His own voice sounds disturbing to him.

"It's Billy, right?" Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes can't quite seem to ever fully meet his. There's an uncomfortable pause as he glares at her in rigid silence. Her voice is fragile when she continues, struggles to find its footing. "Uh-I'm Heather. I think we're in the same class together? Well, classes. We've never really talked but I see you all the time.I mean, not all the time but-"

"_Why _are you _here _?" Billy drawls, agitated. He wants to shut the door in her face, shove her down the patio steps, or maybe snatch the flyers she's holding in her arms and tear them into tiny pieces.

Heather gets increasingly breathless. "Well, um- I'm going around town to supporting our local cat shelter, The Hawkins Independent Cat Society." Billy's watching a deep flush start to rise up her neck. She's holding out one of those damn flyers to him; He doesn't take it. "Um, winter's coming up so that means we're uh- looking for extra volunteers to take care of the influx of strays we usually get. And any donations that you could give would be so helpful. Even a dollar. We really need any help we can get."

Billy's arms cross as he leans against the doorway. He glances down at the paper, back to her, offers her a fake smile. "I _hate _cats." He's lying but his tone could kill a small houseplant.

Heather's strained smile dissolves, her brow creasing. She snatches the paper to her chest. "Okay, well that's...unfortunate. Thank you for your time. Uh, see you…" She fades out, her expression dismal. ".. _tomorrow _." She does a quick turn and hurries down the steps, snatching her bike from off the grass, cramming the papers into her front basket.

Somehow her last sentence is more violent to Billy than any visual he just had of shoving her down the front stairs. He watches her departure, speeding off his front lawn like she can't get out of here fast enough. He un-clenches his fists, rolls his tense shoulders back, attempts to breathe fully. He slams the door shut, and it makes the windows rattle.

* * *

When Billy arrives at school on Monday, he's on the edge of a knifepoint. The day had barely begun but his anxiety is peaking, roiling in his gut. Five minutes after the first bell he loiters in the parking lot, leaning against his Camaro, fingers coiled around a cigarette while brisk wind whips at his hair. He stares out at the small sea of cars, hoping the chill and nicotine will numb his nerves.

He can't quite pinpoint where the tension is coming from. He knows he didn't sleep well last night, knows he didn't study for the math test this morning. He's thinking he'll probably do alright; he's good with numbers, but he wishes he had a firmer grasp of the curriculum. He's been flying by the seat of his pants since he arrived at Hawkins, above average on tests but never _quite _bothering with homework, skipping class every other day. He knows it'll catch up to him pretty quick.

He _also _knows that Heather will be there. Front row seat, all slim shoulders and cashmere, her hand raising every goddamn minute. He religiously sits in the last row, and always gets a clear view of the back of her head, her neck almost straining under all that thick hair. Sometimes his fingers itched to pull out that stupid scrunchie. Wanted to see her hair fall out in dark waves down her spine. Maybe yank at the locks and make her squeal. He wanted to know what she sounded like off kilter; not so pretty and perfect.

With that thought he sees her. She's on her bike as usual, rolling into the parking lot real smooth. It irritates the hell out of him. Can't her parents give her a ride or a car or something? She owns a freaking one-speed. It's beneath her, really.

His mind springs back to their awkward interaction yesterday. He had been a total dick; he's sure of it. But he had felt unable to react in any other way. He was usually pretty good with girls. Knew how to lay on the charm real thick, lower his voice and eyelids for that sultry effect. It didn't take much effort. He knew he had a natural gift and took pleasure in utilizing it. With Heather, he felt _weak _. Felt prickly and embarrassed before he even opened his mouth. It bewildered him. _Girls _were supposed to be the vulnerable ones.

She spots him and turns her head away. He immediately _hates _this reaction, which surprises him because her ignoring him was suiting him just fine a few days ago. That is, _before _yesterday's interlude. Billy tosses his cigarette butt, and starts towards the front doors. He walks slowly so Heather reaches the building way before he does.

To his surprise she cruises on up next to him and gets a little _too_ close. He catches a whiff of her floral shampoo, sees the shine of her lip gloss, her handlebar nearly brushing against his arm. "You're late too, huh?"

"_Yeah _?" He makes sure that his irritation is obvious.

"Race you there." She teases, bold unlike yesterday.

_Hilarious. _"I'm good, thanks."

She shoots him a lopsided grin, and Billy's heart-rate picks up a notch. "See you in class." She takes off, speeding to the front of the building; dismounting and locking up her bike up with a dexterity that impresses him. Billy stares as she strides through the front door with a kind of grace that only an athlete could have. He wonders if she dances, or does gymnastics. Something that would explain her agility, her posture, that _body _…Billy grimaces, steeling himself against his own thoughts.

He seriously needs to stay the hell away from her.

* * *

Billy is the last person to arrive to Math class.

"Mr._Hargrove_!Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us today."

Billy ignores Mr. Davis's sarcasm and notices that someone's taken his usual spot in the back. Of course the only desk available is right beside Heather. The conspiracy continues. He sits down in the empty seat, avoiding eye contact with her, running his eyes up her jean-clad legs under her desk.

"It seems you've forgotten your supplies." Mr. Davis says dryly behind his glasses.

Billy shifts in his chair, feeling everyone's gaze on him. He was so focused on getting to class that he had skipped going to his locker. "Would appear so.."

Mr. Davis sighs and scans the room. "Does anyone have a spare pencil?".

Billy hears a quiet snap as Heather opens her pencil case and rummages through it. He eyes her organized desk and sees that she has definitely _not _forgotten her school supplies. In fact, she has an overstock.

She passes him a pencil with a perfectly sharp tip. "Here." Her eyes are sympathetic and it makes Billy want to leave her hanging, but he takes it with a mumbled thanks.

"Alright, class." Mr. Davis begins handing out the tests, starting with Billy . "I _really _hope you've studied this weekend, because there's going to be a few surprises on this one."

Billy groans inwardly, starts skimming the test for signs of danger; frowns when he sees problems that he's destined to struggle with. He glances at Heather who's already scribbling furiously, white teeth piercing her bottom lip. He stares a little too long at her mouth.

"Do you need another pencil,Mr. Hargrove? Eyes on your paper."

Heather meets Billy's gaze for a second before he jerks his head away, disconcerted by the heat rising in his own face. Her eyes are always so damn _soft _, like melting hearts is her life's purpose. It was better when he could only see the back of her head.

After about five minutes, Billy realizes he's going to fail this test. Or at least shame himself. Math was his best class outside of Gym so it comes as an unpleasant surprise. He hadn't realized just _how _behind he was. He pushes awkwardly through it, exhales in relief whenever he finds an equation he understands. For an hour he feels like a complete idiot. By the time Billy reaches the last section, he's absolutely defeated.

Heather finishes first, curls bouncing as she springs up from her desk to place her paper on the teacher's desk. She gathers her stuff and Billy pretends he doesn't notice her ass when she walks past him. He gives himself permission to steal another glance as she leaves the room. This doesn't concern him _too _much as he probably would have had the same reaction to any girl with a good body. He should really stop thinking about her eyes though; pools of warm chocolate that threatened to brim over any second. He bets she cries easily, probably bawls at Pampers commercials. Billy _loathes _sappy chicks.

Billy realizes he's had his pencil hovering over one digit for several minutes. Jesus, he was off today.

Ten minutes later, he finishes the test to the best of his abilities, knowing he bombed it. He gets up and slams the paper down on Mr. Davis's desk, making him jump in his seat, glasses sliding down his nose. Billy grins and struts out into the hall, prepared for the worst.


	2. she's my uptown girl

Chapter Two: My Uptown Girl.

* * *

Billy wrenches open his locker and winces at the piercing squeak it emits. He glances at Heather's locker four spots down from his, noticing the outside of it looks freakishly clean. He imagines her wiping it down in an OCD-driven panic. He's guessing _her _locker door probably opens soundless on well-oiled hinges.

He suddenly feels a tap on his right shoulder and spins his head around. It's Tommy H., standing on his left, grinning like an idiot. Billy smirks. He can't fucking _stand _this guy but tolerates his inane bullshit to enter somewhere on top of the school hierarchy. That shit _matters _to him. He needs the leverage for access to the better parties, the better chicks, the better pot; Tommy was his foot in the door, a necessary evil.

"Hey man, you going out with us tonight?" Tommy smacks his arm with his notebook and Billy flinches.

"It's _Monday_, Tommy." Billy says, mouth curling in a caustic twist. He reaches for his English textbook.

"So? Never stopped you before." This is true.

"_Yeah_, that was before the old man started taking my keys from me on school-nights. Can't go anywhere after eight now."

"Aw shit, last week was really that bad huh?"

Last time when they had gone drinking on a weekday, Billy had tried sneaking back into his house through his bedroom window, but ended up knocking over his record player, waking the whole house up. Neil was _not _pleased. He had shoved him into a wall, slapped him to tears; the _works _.

"It wasn't _good. _" Billy says with mock lightness, slamming his locker door shut. He scans over Tommy's mean face, envisions smacking it repeatedly. The guy was a goddamn nuisance. Especially since him and Carol had broken up. He seemed to follow him everywhere now; called him a few days ago just to _talk _. Billy refuses to take the bait. He wasn't a fucking shoulder to cry on and he wants Tommy in his life like he wants a skin rash. Thankfully, knowing him and Carol, they'll probably be back together in a week anyways. They both make their way towards English class together, a lingering silence present before Tommy breaks it.

"So...what do you think of _Heather _? You know, the brunette." Tommy asks, looking at him with anticipation, like he's expecting a fist bump or something just for mentioning her.

Jesus Christ, was the universe trying to fuck with him today? "I _don't. _" Billy says louder than necessary. A few people in the hall glance at him.

Tommy lifts his brows. "Really? She's pretty cute, man."

Billy shrugs, raises his hand to touch the banner for The Hawkins Winter Dance as they walk underneath it. "You should know by now priss ain't my type."

"I dunno if she's a _priss _. I mean, she's a goody-good for sure, but she's pretty chill. You _really _wouldn't hit that?"

"Not a fucking chance." Billy enunciates slowly.

"_Okay_. Weird." Tommy eyes him suspiciously, evidently disappointed that he didn't have someone to congratulate him for his good taste. "_Anyways_, I'm thinking of asking her out to Teresa's party this weekend."

Billy clenches his jaw. There's no way in _hell _Heather would go for Tommy. Even he could see she was way out of his league. "Yeah, good luck with that." His tone is just plain mean.

Tommy sneers shark-like. "What's _that _supposed to mean, Hargrove?"

Billy casually fishes in his jean jacket pocket for a stick of gum. "Pretty little rich girl is gonna go for a pretty rich _boy_, isn't she? She wouldn't open her legs for anything less."

"Pfffft, It's not like my family's broke or something. _Where _are you getting this from?"

"I know her type from a mile away. It'll take you a year to get to first base." Billy's blue eyes are gloating at Tommy's look of dismay. "That is, if she even lets you take a swing." He places the stick of gum in his mouth.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Right. I see you've got her all figured out." He's clearly deflated though. Another long pause. "You know, she's on the swim team, right? She's pretty good. I saw her at practice once. _Real _talented. Legs for days." He looks at Billy with a lewd grin, expecting Billy to make some perverted comment in return.

Billy begins to picture Heather emerging dripping wet from a swimming pool, ripping the vision from his mind before it fully forms. "What, so you're stalking her now?"

Tommy scoffs. "_No_. Carol's also on the team. Caught a glimpse by chance. And now that Carol's old news, it's time to expand my horizons."

Tommy's overconfidence pisses Billy off to no end. "It's been five days, Tommy. Calm the fuck down."

"Speak for yourself, Hargrove. I've got _needs _."

Billy suppresses an eye-roll. Tommy's only slept with one girl in his entire life, yet acts like he's some kind of player. "Trust me, you ain't gonna get them met by _her_."

"How the fuck do you know this chick so well? Have you ever even talked to her?"

"Like I said, I know her type. Doesn't take a genius." The conversation ends at that, leaving Tommy frowning.

The rest of the day goes by much smoother than Billy anticipated. He gets the back row seat every class, gets a good view of Heather's head and shoulders from behind as per usual. Except this time he has to stop his eyes from lasering a hole into her skull, tearing his gaze away to stare unseeingly at the board in front of him.

They don't talk again all week.

* * *

Saturday night comes around on a bright full moon, and Billy works hard at beautifying himself in the mirror. His image reflects denim and leather, blonde waves perfectly coiffed, tan somehow still glowing. He looks like he's down to fuck. This of course, is absolutely his intention. He doesn't know who he intends on seducing tonight. He wasn't particularly interested in going after anyone from Hawkins High, after already going through the top of the heap. The chicks here were god-awful in his eyes compared to the fashionable babes back in California. He's kind of hoping some hot college girl will happen to be at Teresa's party. _Who the fuck even is Teresa?_

He knows he can't get wasted tonight. He had agreed to be the designated driver for Tommy and his group of moronic friends. _So _he plans to have just one beer, and get as stoned as humanly possible. He wonders if anyone in Hawkins has any good coke. Probably not.

He manages to escape his house without being spotted. Neil was too drunk to notice him leaving. If he _had _noticed him though, he probably would have gotten a good smack to the head for no reason. On the other hand, he might have gotten some extra cash for gas. Billy never really knew _what _he was going to get. He wouldn't take the chance though.

Billy rolls into Teresa's driveway around ten and the place is packed to the brim. It's a nice house, has a nice pool, a well maintained lawn with expensive ornaments that will likely be smashed or stolen by morning. When inside, the party is starting to take off, metallic synth pounding in his ear drums, drunk people laughing and hollering. Billy pushes through the dense crowd, and doesn't recognize most of the faces. Some of them are actually pretty cute though, so there's a chance he might find a good lay after all.

He finally finds Tommy who's alone on the cramped back-patio deck, leaning over the railing looking forlorn. He's staring out into the backyard garden area. Billy looks over to where Tommy's head is pointed and feels his gut turn.

There's Heather. Leaning on the shoulder of fucking _Steve Harrington _.

_Of course._

He takes a few seconds to absorb this horrifyingly predictable picture, then creeps up on Tommy; slaps him hard on the back, making him splash most of his drink on the deck. "_See,_ what'd I tell ya?" Billy leers. "Pretty rich girl goes for pretty rich boy."

"Jesus, Hargrove! Don't _do _that." Tommy punches Billy's arm, then grimaces at the spilled contents of his cup. He looks back out into the yard. "Okay, you got me. Maybe you had a point. But god, would you fucking _look _at them?" He gestures over to the duo.

Billy would really rather not but does anyway, immediately getting another fresh kick to his gut. Steve has his arm around Heather now and they're both laughing, looking like models in a Ralph Lauren commercial. Steve says something in her ear and she beams at him. They're so fucking cute it's nauseating. Billy wants to hurl already.

"Y'know, they almost look like they're related." Tommy quips bitterly.

Billy releases a harsh bark of laughter. "Yeah, well you know how these blue bloods like to keep things in the family."

Tommy looks at his near-empty cup with a wistful sigh then back to Billy. "I'm gonna go get hammered now." He begins ambling towards the kitchen.

Billy calls after him, scowling. "Look, I'm not going to hold your hair back later, so pace yourself, alright? If anyone throws up in my car again this is the last time I'm driving."

Tommy looks back with a dismissive eye roll. "Yeah yeah, I know. God, do you _ever _lighten up?"

Billy gives him a warning glance, then disappears in the opposite direction of the party.

* * *

Billy's been at this supposedly wild party for almost an hour and _still _hasn't found any pot. What the fuck is wrong with this town? Oh right, it's Hawkins. Apparently Tommy's dealer is coming out later that night but being from California, he's used to instant access. Plus he's feeling _way _too damn sober. He's becoming aware of just how shallow and juvenile these parties actually are and one beer is just not going to cut it.

When he rounds the house to the pool area, his nose picks up the earthy musk of what he seeks, and he snaps his head in its direction. He nearly groans when he sees the source.

It's Steve and his new _girl._

Steve and Heather are looking picturesque, standing and chatting by the blue glow of the pool, passing a joint under the full moon. Billy's riding a confidence boost from his beer buzz and decides to rain on their parade.

He strolls up to them, and when Steve's smile fades, Billy beams real wide.

"Hey _Stevie_, how's it going?" He's all false charm and knows it's obvious; doesn't care. He glances at Heather and feels an electric charge in his blood at the sight of her. She's wearing tight black jeans and a red lace blouse that brings out her natural color. Her face is made up, smokey lids and cherry lips. She looks older, hotter, disorientingly sultry. Billy looks her up and down a tad too openly before forcing his eyes back to Steve, who's glowering at him.

"It was going pretty good til' right about now." Steve deadpans. Billy notices Heather elbow him in the ribs and he can't believe that she's actually concerned about Steve being nice to him. He also notices that she's pretty damn stoned. To his surprise, Billy _likes _seeing her this way, eyes hooded and her demeanour a little undone, a little weird. He hadn't thought her the type to get high at all.

"Mind if I join you?" Billy expects to be shut-down but is so desperate for a toke that he doesn't give a fuck.

Steve starts to say something but Heather leans over and passes him the joint. Billy raises his eyebrows and takes it from her, their fingers brushing for a quick second. He sees the red ring of her lipstick on the paper and feels his stomach flip. He brings the doobie to his lips and takes a couple of deep inhales, looking up at the moon, knowing this might be the only hit he gets all night.

"Yeah, c'mon man, don't bogart it." Steve motions his fingers to hand back the joint, and Billy does, exhaling smoke with a grin. It's serious quality kush. He's already euphoric. Billy senses Heather's gaze on him and he stares back into her big brown eyes, the weed loosening his boundaries. Tonight he really _looks _at her, fully taking her in as if for the first time, eyes skimming over her creamy skin, her soft red mouth. She's fucking _beautiful _. And she's not looking away. He licks his dry lips.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here." He mumbles. He hadn't planned to say anything to her, but he suddenly feels a fierce desire to hear her speak.

Heather smiles at him and motions her head towards Steve. "He dragged me out of the house."

Billy stiffens, snaps back to sharp reality. "Right..." He glances at Steve who looks like he's about to kick his ass. "Good stuff, Harrington. Seriously puts Tommy's dirt to shame." He slaps Steve on the arm just to bother him some more, and turns towards the house. He needs a warm body to melt into, and _fast _.


	3. play slayer!

Author's Note: This chapter contains smut.

* * *

Chapter Three: Play Slayer!

It turns out Teresa is the hot college chick Billy's been hoping for.

She finds _him_. Not long after he steps foot back inside the house, agitated and lusty, she makes a beeline in his direction. Starts up a conversation that he knows is going to end with him getting lucky. She even already knows his name. This strikes Billy as kind of creepy but in a town as shit as this any bit of flair or personality seemed to mark one as as some type of celebrity.

She's cute. Redheaded. Nice rack. Billy doesn't need much coaxing. Their tongues are colliding before there's any thought on his part. She wants it _bad_. Tastes like rum and coke. She drags him upstairs to the bathroom, pushing him against the sink. Starts unzipping his jeans before he's even hard. The pot is doing that weird-ass thing of making him horny yet slow to respond. It's okay. She has clever hands and gets to work like it's her job to please him. Billy likes her enthusiasm.

He finally gets it up, but his mind is elsewhere. On a certain brown eyed, curly-haired vixen. She wasn't close to that in Billy's mind yesterday but tonight she's a fucking vixen. He can't stop thinking about her mouth, the way her jeans cling to her hips. How he could see her skin through the red lace of her top. The weed is making it easy for him to imagine, to visualize. He imagines that pretty mouth on him and starts to leak in Teresa's hand.

He closes his eyes as Teresa takes him on her tongue, starts sucking eagerly. She's good. Has better technique than any of the high school chicks he's been with in Hawkins.

He wonders if Heathers done this before, what she'd be like. Would she be bashful, shy? Or would she take him in greedily like Teresa is now.

A pang of guilt hits him, like Heathers too good to ever go down on him like this. Like she'd want a bed of roses. Want someone to...make _love _to her or something. He snaps his eyes open and sees Teresa's bobbing head, watches the soft flesh of her cleavage as she gives him one of the better blowjobs he's had in a while.

He's close. Shuts his eyes again, this time imagining Heather taking him just as passionately as Teresa. It does the trick. He convulses, letting himself spill into her throat without warning. She doesn't seem to mind; swallows easily, maintains eye contact, seeming to enjoy the whole process. Billy's probably going to ask for her number after this.

A few minutes later Billy leaves the bathroom with Teresa's digits scrawled on his wrist in ballpoint. He sets out to find Tommy, body tingling in its afterglow, Heather's lithe form still on his mind.

* * *

The fucker is nowhere to be found. Billy's doing a constant circle of premises, looking for a shark-faced scumbag that's supposed to acquire the rest of tonight's pot. Although, after the blowjob he's pretty much ready to go home, his reason for coming here already fulfilled.

Billy isn't that surprised when he finds Tommy sprawled in the basement bathroom. The basement where the seedier drugs are being passed around. Billy is _not _going to try anything that's being snorted down here. Who knows what the fuck that stuff is cut with.

Billy leans against the door frame. "You're a predictable motherfucker, Higgins, you know that?"

Tommy's retching, moaning into the toilet. Looks up at Billy with a sweat-wet face. "Sorry, man, fuck..."Shouldn'ta had all those jello shots. And then….the fuckin' keg…'s stupid." He gazes blearily at Billy's eyes for a moment.. "...you fuckin' stoned man?"

Billy actually still is, and it's making this situation more tolerable than it should be."Best shit I've had since I got to this fuckin' town."

"Larry's comin' man. S' coming here. S' gonna get us good stuff. Gotta wait."

Billy snorts. "Fuck _that _shit. We're leaving." He'd much rather leave Tommy lying in his own vomit, but he's not about to ditch the guy who could send him spiralling to the bottom of the social ladder by Monday.

Tommy rests his head against the toilet seat. "Need water. Gimme water."

Billy frowns at the command, but he needs Tommy in the best condition possible before he lets him anywhere near the Camaro. He sighs showily before leaving the room. "Yeah yeah, I'll get you fucking water, jesus."

He finds a cup from the basement kitchen-cupboard and fills it to the brim with tap water, feeling all eyes on him. Goes back to the bathroom and squats next to Tommy, handing it to him. Tommy gulps it down within seconds.

"Here's the deal." Billy sneers, yanking Tommy's cup from his fingers and slamming it on the bathroom counter. "I'm taking your drunk ass home. I'm _not _bringing any of your idiot friends 'cause the last thing I need is another asshole to baby. Puke in the car; you're walking. Got it?"

Tommy giggles, absorbing nothing. Billy seizes Tommy's collar and wrenches him off the floor, forcing him to stagger upright. "Can you even _stand_?" He grimaces as Tommy leans against him, head lolling onto his shoulder. "Shit_._"

Tommy's still snickering, like he's trying to rub it in. "You're always...so _sad_, man. Why so _sad_?"

"If anyones sad right now it's _you_, asshole." Billy yanks Tommy's arm around his neck, grumbling. "Jeez, you weigh a fuck-ton. You better be giving me free pot for _life _after this."

"Les' go, man." Tommy lumbers forward as though trying to lead roughly pulls him back.

"You follow _me_, idiot."

Billy drags Tommy's stumbling weight across the basement, saucer-eyed druggies around the room leering at them.

"Higgins is fuckin' w-w-wasted!" A Hawkins High kid with rat-tail hair crows from one of the couches. "You gonna tuck him into bed too, Hargrove?"

"I'll tuck my foot up your ass, moron." Billy snarls, canines showing. He hauls Tommy's futile body up the stairs, swearing under his breath the entire way. "You owe me _big time, _fuckhead."

* * *

Getting Tommy into the Camaro is no easy feat. Carrying him is the equivalent of dragging a heavy sack of writhing potatoes around. Billy's tempted to abandon him face down in the driveway. It's a miracle when he finally wrestles Tommy's limbs into the passenger's seat.

"Billyyyy, play _Slayer_!" Tommy whine-yells with his eyes closed as Billy settles into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut behind him. "Play _Slayerrrr_!".

"Gimme a sec, asshole." Billy reaches into his jacket for his pack of Marlboro's. He's never needed one more.

To his dismay Tommy already has the glove compartment open, pawing through his cassettes with zero delicacy, a few of them clattering as they hit the car floor. "Where-where is it…Hargrove.._Slayer_..."

"What the hell are you doing!" Billy smacks Tommy's hand away from his prized possessions.

"PLAY SLAYER!"

"Shut the _fuck _up." He reaches across and grabs _Show No Mercy _from the compartment, other hand sticking the scattered tapes back in their proper place. He turns the ignition on and crams the cassette into the tape deck. "Happy now?" Every atom in his body wants to punch Tommy in the throat.

"Fuck yeahhhh!" Tommy moans as the opening to "Evil Has No Boundaries" thuds into their bones. Billy nearly breaks Tommy's arm when he leans over and makes the devil-horns sign in his face.

Tommy clutches his shoulder, scowling. "_Asshole _…"

"One more peep outta you and I'll tear it right out of its socket." Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he lights up, puffing smoke with a sigh of relief as nicotine and thrash-metal course through him. Then he adjusts his rearview mirror and has a woeful realization.

Steve Harrington's car is right behind him.

"You've _gotta _be kidding me." Billy looks over his shoulder through the back window. Steve is sitting in his car. With Heather in the passenger seat. Billy bites the inside of his cheek when he sees Steve lean in and kiss her.

Billy glares at a head-banging Tommy. "Touch anything and you're dead. Got it?" He wrenches open his door, hinges squeaking, steeling himself for the cherry on top of this shit sundae of an evening. He strides up to Harrington's car and raps his knuckles in an aggressive rhythm against the glass by Steve's head, making the lovebirds startle, two pairs of glazed eyes blinking at him.

Steve presses his lips together and shakes his head in annoyance, rolling down his window. "Can I help you?" The whites of his eyes are red and glassy.

Billy pulls from his cigarette and leans down to Steve's eye level, palm pressed into the top of the door frame. He exhales a white haze into the car, his voice charmingly hostile. "Hate to ruin the moment, pretty boy, but you're _blocking_ me. Mind moving the fuck out of the way? Got shit to do." He avoids looking at Heather.

"Yeah whatever, Hargrove. Calm your tits." Steve huffs, digging his keys out of his pocket.

Billy's about to return to his car before Heather's gentle voice cuts through him like a knife. "Hey, Billy, um-have you thought of trying out for the swim team?" This is the last question he expects from her. Their eyes meet and Billy feels that too-intimate spark again. She's still stunning. Still high as a kite. "Carol said you were a lifeguard in California or something. You know, we could always use another strong swimmer. Steve's on the team too, actually." Steve's gawking at her like her words are a personal offense. Heather doesn't seem to notice, her gaze still on Billy.

"Pretty sure we've got enough swimmers, Heath'." Steve mutters, sticking his keys in the ignition and starting the engine.

Billy's smug as he scans over that damn lace top again. "Not likely, princess. Gotta give Harrington a chance to shine at _something_." He smacks Steve's shoulder through the window. "Later, stoners."

He turns and heads back to the Camaro, unable to suppress the onset of butterflies he feels at Heather's suggestion, that she even thought to ask him at all. But he'd rather burn in hell than wear one of those stupid swim caps, even if it meant seeing Heather's half-naked form on the regular. Some things just aren't worth the humiliation.

* * *

Snow arrives in Hawkins the first Monday of December, a bitter chill on its tail. It's miserable. Billy doesn't like how he has to bundle up. How he has to hide his skin. Doesn't like how his teeth chatter in the cold. It's not a good look.

Despite his ignorance of shit weather, Billy's prepared. Neil bought him snow tires a month ago. Neil's a North Dakota boy. Knows to get these things ahead of time. Billy hasn't seen snow since he visited Neil's parents as a kid, and he's not looking forward to the inevitable shovelling of the driveway, to the black ice Neil says is likely to form on the roads soon. Hell, the entire six months ahead of him is looking pretty damn bleak.

After school, the snow's coming in fast and sticking. Billy exits the front doors and treks through the mostly-empty parking lot towards his Camaro, itching to blast Metallica and heat. Billy had detention for smoking in the boy's locker room, forced to stay after class to do "homework." Which basically meant drawing cartoons all over the inside of his binder for an hour.

Inside his car, properly satiated by electric guitars and the smouldering cigarette perched in his mouth, he pulls out of his parking space and cruises towards the exit. He feels oddly careful with the new crystallized surroundings.

Then his eyes catch a sorry sight in his periphery.

Heather's on her cherry-red bike, attempting to make her way through the falling snow. She's actually doing a pretty good job, practically sailing, but it infuriates him. She's a fucking idiot.

A really cute one.

Billy slows down next to her, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel for a few seconds, contemplating if he's really going to do this or not. He caves, mumbling "Fuck it." under his breath. He rolls down his window, a few icy flakes hitting his lashes.

"You're not _seriously _planning to ride that piece of junk through this, are you?" Billy drawls over the noise coming from his speakers. He notices that Heathers hair is damp, and he cringes inside at the how cold her head must be right now.

"I'm from Connecticut. This is nothing." Heather glances at him before looking straight ahead.

Of _course_ she's from Connecticut, rich little bitch. "Your boyfriend ditch you or something?"

Heather comes to a stop and Billy does the same in turn. She looks more haughty than necessary. "He's _not _my boyfriend, we're just dating. And it was only the girls swim practice today. He's probably already home."

Billy tries to ignore the relief he feels at her reluctance to call Steve her boyfriend. "Look, throw the bike in the back and I'll give you a ride, kay?"

"Really?"

Billy takes a drag, putting on his most aloof face. "I mean, if you wanna get hypothermia then go right ahead."

"Alright. If you _insist_." Heather grins. She dismounts and Billy climbs out, rounding the car to open the trunk. "You think the trunk is big enough?"

"Sure it fucking is. Just leave the hood up." Billy says, Marlboro in hand. He pops the lid open. " 'Course, normally I wouldn't be caught _dead_ doing this, but it's only a ten minute drive. Otherwise I'd leave you here." Billy grabs the bike from Heather's hands and positions it tight inside the trunk, red titanium and wheels sticking out like a sore thumb, hood gaping open awkwardly. They both stop and stare for a moment, white powder already forming on the handlebars.

"_Yup_. Looks tacky as shit." Billy narrows his eyes and takes one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it in the snow. "Let's go before I change my mind."

"How do you know it takes ten minutes?" Heather asks as Billy walks past her to the driver's seat.

"I dunno, doesn't everyone know you live in Scrooge-ville? Get in. I'm freezing my ass off out here." He steps inside and the door shuts painfully loud after him.

Heather ambles to the passengers side, adjusting her ponytail in the glass before slipping into warmth and Metallica's pounding rhythm.


	4. who's gonna drive you home?

Author's note: This chapter contains smut.

* * *

Chapter Four:Who's Gonna Drive You Home?

When Heather enters the car Billy realizes he's not ready for this moment. She seems equally unprepared, doesn't look at him as she puts her seatbelt on. He turns down the volume on the music, assuming she's going to hate it.

"You don't have to do that."

Billy raises a brow. "You a fan or something?"

"Nope." She cringes. "What even is this?"

"Metallica."

"Sounds like...death."

"That's kinda the point."

There's an uncomfortable silence besides the steely whine of electric guitars. Billy shifts gears and glances at Heather. She's still looking away from him. He quickly scans over the black wool of her jacket, the elegant slope of her profile, the way a tendril of hair falls over her brow. She looks pretty. Really fucking pretty. Smells nice too. His stomach does that flipping thing he's starting to hate.

Billy coasts to the exit and makes a right turn, flicking up the speed on his windshield wipers as white flakes plummet into his field of vision. He realizes that Heather gets to watch him drive through snow for the first time. Not ideal, but it's not like he cares. Or at least he _shouldn't _care.

He can't stand how damn quiet she is. Usually chicks are gabbing his ear off by now. "_So_...how's swimming?"

"Oh." She hesitates. "It's okay, I guess."

"Well, that doesn't sound very enthusiastic." The snow's not that bad. It's almost like he was expecting the road to pull out from under him with the way Neil kept going on about black ice. Billy speeds up.

"I guess I'm just kinda bummed about it today."

"And why's that?" He hates that he actually wants to know.

She pauses for a second before opening up. "I'm just not doing my best this week. It's stupid. I mean, I haven't lost a race yet, but I keep going under my usual time. I feel like I'm underperforming."

Billy gives her a cynical look. "Something tells me you _always _feel like that."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I dunno, you've got this _vibe _about you."

"What kind of vibe?"

"Like if I looked away for a second you'd start organizing my cassettes or something."

Her tone sharpens. "Yeah right, you should see my room."

Billy looks at her. She's glaring at him, an expression he hasn't seen on her before. He instantly likes it, wants more."I bet you have like _one _sock on the floor and the rest is sparkling. That to you would be a mess."

"Not true, and even if it was It's not like there's anything wrong with a clean room. I mean, yours is probably disgusting."

Oh, so she _does _get sassy. The corner of his mouth twitches as he reaches into his jacket for another cigarette."So you're telling me that you're only Little Miss Perfect at school?"

"What are you talking about?"

Billy decides to dig into her for the hell of it, see if she squirms. "Your hand is always up in class like you're gonna fucking _die _unless you answer every stupid question. You're on every goddamn team and committee the school has to offer. You're every teacher's favorite pet." He points his unlit cigarette at her."I'm pretty sure you actually polish your locker like some kind of _spaz _."

She scoffs. "Just because I participate at school doesn't mean-"

"Bet you iron your panties."

That sets her off, her tone shrill. "I do _not _! And what, are you like, _watching _me or something? What makes you think you know so much?"

"Nothing." Billy says innocently, fishing his zippo lighter out of his pocket. "Just observant."

"Okay. Alright. Well, you've _also _got a vibe." She pokes him hard in the arm. Billy gets a kick out of it, his body heating up at her getting in his personal space.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" He lights his cigarette, eyes on the horizon as he exhales smoke in front of him. He doesn't open his window just to see if it annoys her.

"Like you're too cool for school."

Oh, _good one, _Heather. "Well, I won't deny that."

"Like you _hate _everybody."

"I hate stupid people" Billy shifts his gaze to her as they hit a red light. It's hard not to stare at the subtle pout of her mouth. "It's not my fault that's the majority."

"Well maybe if you actually _talked _to people you'd find that they weren't stupid and that you're just really judgemental." She's leaning towards him, eyes flashing. Billy has a powerful urge to yank her to him and kiss her. See how fiery she _really _gets.

"Sounds like a goddamn waste of time to me."

Heather sinks back into her seat, glaring silently out the window for a good minute, watching the houses whiz by them. Billy wonders if he went too far before she speaks again."You're totally regretting giving me a ride, aren't you? I knew this would happen."

He's actually not at all. He's savouring every second of getting under her skin. "What do you mean, you _knew _?"

"I know I've never been your cup of tea. You've always looked at me like I'm the worst, and now that I know you actually think I _am _..."

Billy keeps his expression bored, flicking ash into the dirty paper cup that's in the holder. "I look at everyone like that. Don't flatter yourself."

"Charming."

"If it makes you feel any better, I hate your boyfriend a hundred times more than I hate you."

"Wow, _thanks _."

"What's the attraction to that moron anyways?" Billy's been itching to ask since the party, though he's not sure if he actually wants an answer.

"Steve's _not _a moron. He's sweet, he's funny, he takes me places. He's a good guy."

His fingers tighten on the wheel, knuckles white."That's the most boring thing I've ever heard."

"Oh? And what would be better criteria?"

Billy goes for the jugular. "Can he _fuck_?"

"What? Ew!" Heather smacks his arm, making him grin. He just couldn't resist pushing her over the edge. And now that he knows it makes her touch him, he's going to do it again and again.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"It's none of your business!" She's clearly appalled. Face red. Billy laps it up.

"Mmm. _Definitely _a no."

"You're disgusting!"

Billy can't stop smirking, rolls down the window to toss his cigarette butt. "I think you just can't handle the truth.".

Heather bursts into laughter. "What the heck, were you raised in a barn or something?" She puts her face in her hands, shaking her head. "You are a freaking _trip. _"

He didn't expect her to laugh. He wants more of that too. He milks it further, voice teasing. "Yeah, you like that?"

"Hmm, I dunno." She does a sardonic pause, like she's actually considering. "I'll have to think about that one."

"You already know you do, but I'm sure you'll be thinking about me anyways." Billy peeks at her. She's blushing, eyes glued to the road. Billy decides he's won.

The sun begins to set and the landscape shifts. Massive houses appear, huge expanses of lawn, winding driveways. The snow's starting to dwindle into slow speckles against his windshield. "So we're in Rich-ville now. Which place is yours?"

"What, you don't know that too?" Heather mocks.

"I guess stalking isn't my forte after all."

She gives a big sigh, but Billy knows she's enjoying the banter. He can tell by the way she's still blushing, by the way she leans on the armrest towards him. She gestures ahead. "Keep going til you hit Chestnut. It's the second house on the left.

Billy does exactly that, and when he pulls over to the side of the road, his eyes widen. "Jesus, your place is huge." It's definitely a mansion. White, and pure. A roundabout and a fountain in the front. Billy hates it. "How many servants do you have, like twenty?

Heather offers him a withering glare. "We have one housekeeper and a cook." She opens the car door, stepping out into the cold. Billy follows suit, gaze penetrating into the walls of her sprawling house, like he's trying to see through it. He knew she was loaded but this is a shock to the system.

He circles to the back of the Camaro. Heather's already lifting her bike out of the trunk before he can help her.

"Why don't your parents give you a car?" Billy shuts the trunk door after her wheels touch the pavement. "Not like they can't afford one."

She gives him one of those holier-than-thou expressions that makes him remember why he hated her at first sight. Except now he definitely wants to rip the bike out of her hands and kiss that look off her face. "Because I don't _want _one. I like riding my bike."

Billy rolls his eyes, leans against the side of the Camaro with his arms folded. "Gonna be kind of a shit time over the coming months, don't you think?"

"Well. Yeah." She admits.

"You know, if you need a ride…"

Heather winces. "I dunno, I think that would be kinda weird for Steve."

Billy can't help but get pissed at that, his whole body tensing."Thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend."

"I guess you calling him that _constantly _changed my mind." Heather quips, sweeping snow off her bike.

Billy snorts, annoyance dripping from him."_Okay_. Well, just don't expect a ride from me when you're caught in the snow on that thing again."

"Hey, I was doing just fine. _You _were the one that offered."

He ignores that point. "Does Harrington drive you to school?" He knows no matter what answer she gives he's going to be mad about it.

"Sometimes?"

Billy's reaching in his jacket for yet another Marlboro. There's something about this chick that makes him want to chain-smoke like his life depends on it. "So your own boyfriend doesn't even give you a ride?"

"We like, just started dating. We're taking things slow."

Billy's eyes bore into hers. "Anyone I'd date would get a ride to school and back _daily,_ no question. What kind of dip-shit lets his girl bike in the cold for like an hour?"

Heather shrugs, looks at the snow-covered pavement. "It's more like twenty-five minutes, but-"

"It's still _shitty_."

They glower at each other. The snow's completely stopped now. The light slipping away.

"Look,I'm gonna go." Heather starts walking her bike in the direction of her house, glancing back. "Thanks for the ride. See you at school tomorrow."

Billy's already opening the driver's door, cigarette between his lips. "Yeah, whatever. Don't freeze your tits off on the way there."

He slams the door shut and guns the engine, shooting off into the gathering dark.

* * *

The rest of the week is torture. Heather and him don't talk again. It's obvious she's avoiding him. It's almost like the ride never happened. Billy kinda blames himself. He knows he crossed multiple lines. He doesn't regret it. It had been the most exciting thing that's happened to him since he arrived in this shithole. Last time he felt that high was when he took a tab of acid and then rode a huge wave back in San Diego. Life gets boring real fast after something like that.

He's sure Heather feels it too. A spark. A flame. A fucking explosion. Hell, he knows he's been feeling it for weeks but was too damn stupid to admit it to himself. He doesn't like to think about that too much. It only makes him feel like shit.

So he soldiers on. Smokes more than normal. Drinks more than he should. Calls Teresa up and fucks her in the back of his Camaro. It doesn't help. Heather never leaves his mind.

Yeah, he's aware he could never really have her. He's not a fucking idiot. He knows who he is. Where he is. Who he's going to become. He knows who Heather's going to become too, and he'd only hold her back. Hurt her. Fuck her up. She's too smart for that. She's probably thought this type of thing through, knows what's good for her. That's why she's with Steve. They're perfect for each other.

Except for the fact that she'd much rather fuck him than Steve.

Okay, maybe he's projecting there, but he could have sworn that's what she wanted at the party, what she wanted when he made her blush. Steve is just arm candy. He's absolutely sure of this. He tells himself this a lot. Especially when he sees Steve at her locker, holding her hand, making her laugh.

Billy's not sure how much longer he can take it.

* * *

On Friday night, Billy's in his room. He's not alone. Teresa is lying face down on his mattress while he rocks into her from behind. Susan is in the next room so he tries to keep quiet, not moving fast or hard enough to make the bed squeak. Teresa won't stop whimpering. She's fucking annoying. Billy has to slap his hand over her mouth and tell her to shut up. He's pretty sure that this'll be the last time he fucks her. He's getting real tired of her shit. Plus, her eyes are too green, her hair too red. Billy's decided he prefers brunettes.

The phone rings. He keeps thrusting.

Then someone's knocking on his door and he freezes. "What?"

"Billy, phone's for you. It's a girl from school." Susan's voice is muffled through the door. "Says her name's Heather?"

"_Fuck._" He pulls out immediately. "Yeah I'll be there in a minute!" He gets up and grabs his jeans, pulling them on while he yanks his shirt out from underneath Teresa. She looks _pissed._ He grins at her. "Sorry, doll. Be right back."

He shuts his bedroom door behind him and makes a quick line to the empty kitchen, picking up the phone that Susan left lying on the counter. He puts the receiver to his ear and smiles, his whole body buzzing.

"How the hell did you get this number?"

"And hello to you too." Heather says softly. She has a good phone voice, sweet and husky. Billy's mind is going to really dirty places already. That's her fault though for interrupting him while he's balls deep in some college girl. He's still hard. "There's this thing called a phonebook."

"Huh, you don't say." He twines his fingers around the phone cord, words dripping honey. "Well, that's real cute. You uh- lonely or something? Need some company?"

He hears her annoyed exhale. "Nope_._"

The lack of blood in Billy's head is giving him a very narrow focus. "I figure it gets pretty isolating in that big shiny house you got there. Sorta get why you're so uptight now. I think maybe you need somebody to pay you a special visit. Help you to relax for once." Billy lowers his voice. "You know, get you nice and we- "

Heather clears her throat loudly. "Actually, I was gonna ask you for a favor. A big one."

"I was just getting to that." Billy purrs.

She ignores him. "You're going to laugh."

"Oh yeah?"

"I um...I need a ride."

Billy smirks, ardour cooling. "Yeah, that's pretty damn funny. You know a ride to school ain't the same as me being your personal chauffeur, right?"

"I know. Look, I'm at the cat shelter. There was a staff Christmas party and I volunteered to stay behind and clean up. Rode my bike home for like a minute and the chain broke. So now I'm back here, and like...yeah.."

Billy notices she's slurring slightly. "You been drinking?"

"I mean, I had a few glasses of wine and I'm a lightweight but nothing crazy."

"Why can't Harrington give you a ride?"

"I uh- I dunno. Haven't called him yet..." She drifts off. "Technically, you're closer. And from what I remember you seem to like giving rides?"

He chuckles, totally thrilled that she called him over Steve. "Not _really. _Where's this place again?"

"Glenn and Halfford. Blue building. Has a big cat painted on it."

"Uh-huh." Billy drawls, leaning against the counter. That actually is pretty close.

"You know, if it's too much of a hassle I'll just call Steve. Or like, walk."

Billy tenses his jaw. "I'll give you a ride."

He hears her breathe a sigh of relief. "Thanks so much. It'd really help me out."

"Right. Well, don't get too wasted before I show up. I get pretty impatient with that shit." Unwanted memories of hauling Tommy into his car come to mind. Though the idea of having to carry Heather around sort of turns him on.

"You? Impatient? Hard to imagine."

"I'm a real saint, I know. Kay, I'm leaving now. Be there in like, twenty minutes."

"See you soon."

Billy hangs up the phone and returns to his room where Teresa is still lying. He climbs on top of her with renewed fervor, making her whine when he slides into her again. For the next couple of minutes he pretends it's Heather who's clenching around him with every thrust. He forgets to not make the bed squeak.


	5. no more love on the run

Chapter Five: No More Love On The Run.

When Billy arrives at the faded building of the Hawkins Independent Cat Society, he's excited.

Teresa's perfume still hangs in the air of the Camaro. He had dropped her off, then had driven here as fast as possible in the snow, wanting to follow through on the time he had given Heather. Teresa didn't care about how he had kicked her out of his house as soon as he came. She just wanted to fuck. At least that's what he tells himself. Guilt isn't something Billy does well. Not like he's gonna see her again anyways.

He can see the twinkle of Christmas lights in the shelter as he gets out of the car. When he approaches the front door he feels like he's going to burst out his skin. Heather opens the door before he can even knock. The first thing Billy always notices about her are those doe eyes; right now they're teasing. She's definitely had a few.

"Hey there, mister..."

"Hey yourself." He leans on the doorframe, panning over her outfit. She's wearing one of those stupid oversized Holiday sweaters; a cat wearing a Santa hat on it. Her hair is up and disheveled. Big hoop earrings. Cheeks rosy. Lips wine-stained.

"Want me to show you some _cats_?" She points her thumb behind her.

Billy gives a lopsided grin. "Not really, but you're cute enough right now that I might let you."

Heather looks unimpressed. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You're the cat-hater."

"Nah. You were just even more annoying than usual that day."

"And you are charming as ever." She steps back and lets him in. "Let me at least show you Rum Tum Tugger. He's been keeping me company."

The place looks better on the inside. The room is half-lit, filled with tacky ornaments. He can hear meowing in the distance. There's a bunch of couches. A front desk with a miniature Christmas tree on it. An oversized orange tabby pads over to him and Billy instinctively leans down to pet it.

"Rum-Tum's the boss in these parts." Heather mumbles.

Billy likes cats. He'd pick a cat over a dumb dog any day. Had a white one named Luna when Mom was still in the picture. He still misses her. Almost as much as he misses Mom. "Stupid as fuck name, but he's cool."

"Want a cookie?" Heather motions to the front desk where there's an overflowing tray of goodies covered in plastic-wrap. She has a child-like quality tonight that's more than endearing. Billy could kiss her right now.

"I'm good."

She flops down in one of the oversized couches. He's glad that she's not in a hurry.

"I'm a little tipsy."

"Yeah, i can _see_ that." He sits down next to her, keeping a good distance between them. He intends to get closer.

"How can you tell?"

"You're being too nice to me."

"I'm a nice person." She states this as a sincere fact, eyes honest. Those eyes are doing something to him right now. He resolves in that moment to kiss her sooner than later.

"I must bring the sass out in you then."

Rum Tum Tugger jumps up next to Billy. Sniffs him before settling into his lap.

"Aw, he likes you!"

"He's an idiot." Billy scratches the purring tabby's ears, looking around the room, taking in the staff pictures on the bulletin board. Heather's on there, beaming with a Siamese cat in her arms. He doesn't get how someone can be so involved in community after only being here for a month. Just adjusting to a new school was a lot for him.

Heather's staring at him. She's so open right now. "Thanks for coming by the way."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." He puts an arm on the back of the couch, beginning his journey towards her. "So you gonna tell me why you called me first?"

"I told you already. You were closer."

"Seems like only half the story to me."

"You're also kind of funny." She shrugs, suddenly absorbed in picking lint off the cushions.

"Hmm, you didn't seem to think that last time I gave you a ride." He keeps his voice low, soothing. He has to build this carefully.

"I mean, you're also kind of a _jerk _but I'm okay with it."

"You like it."

"It amuses me."

Billy smirks. "You're adorable."

Heather pokes his arm, changing the conversation. "Hey you know what I was thinking?"

"What?" Billy likes that she's touching him. This is a good start.

"You should join the swim team."

_Oh, here we go_. "Told you already. Not gonna happen."

"Why not?" Heather pouts.

"I'm more of a surfer than a swimmer. And swim caps give me nightmares."

"You surf?"

"Yeah, all the time back in San Diego." Billy wants to shift an inch towards Heather, but Rum-Tum won't budge.

"That's so neat." Heather leans her elbow on the back of the couch, chin perched in her hand.

Billy hasn't told anyone in Hawkins yet about his love of surfing. Talking about it now makes him homesick. "Yeah, it was fun."

"But you were a lifeguard too?"

"Had to get a car somehow." Neil barely chipped in to help him get a car. Told him that saving for it would help him build character. It did, but Billy still holds it against him.

"Did you like being a lifeguard?" Heather seems genuinely interested.

He grimaces. "Ehh not really. Helped me meet chicks, I guess. Kids are assholes."

Now she's inching towards him, face eager."We should race each other. At swimming I mean."

He didn't see that coming. "_Why_?"

Her eyes light up, mouth in a sweet smile. "Because I like a challenge and I feel like you'd be good at it."

She's _such _an over-achiever. "_Maybe_, princess. I dunno." He gives her a smug look. "But yeah, you're right. I'm good."

Her smile fades. "Don't call me that."

"Call you what?" He feigns innocence.

"Princess."

"Why not?" He glances at her red mouth, lingers there for too long. Pretending he doesn't want her isn't an option for him anymore.

"I dunno, it's a name for like a _girlfriend _or something." Heather's lips are lined with some kind of gloss that he wants to taste. Billy can't decide whether he likes her lips or her eyes more.

"I call lots of girls princess." This isn't true. He saves that word for the girls he'd take home to Mom she was still around. They're few and far between. She should consider herself lucky.

"That's _so _sleazy."

"They seem to like it."

"Just...don't." She shifts away from him, plays with the edge of her sweater.

"Okay, whatever."

She's silent for a moment, runs her gaze over him until his skin tingles. "You miss it? California?"

"Every damn day."

"Yeah, I feel the same." She sighs.

"About what?"

"I miss Connecticut." Heather's voice is tinged with a longing that Billy feels right in his chest.

"Yeah?"

She gives him a gentle smile. "Yeah I miss the ocean."

That nostalgia he usually tries to suppress hits him hard now. It hurts. He can taste the salt water, feel the grit of sand under his feet. "Fuck, me too."

"You gonna go back?"

"Yup, counting down the days."

She looks relieved, breathes out slow. "Same. I can't wait to get out of here."

Billy has a moment of clarity. Heather and him might actually have something in common.

Heather touches his arm again, an impish look in her eyes. "You should join the swim team."

She's turning him on now. He wants her hands all over him. ""You're _pushy _when you drink."

"I'm not even drunk, I'm just a little loose." She wiggles her head from side to side with a coy smile.

"Yeah, I dig it, hun. Though kinda miss stone cold sober you getting pissed at me." Billy needs to start closing the deal now, or it might not happen. He shifts closer to her, pushing Rum-Tum off his lap. He lands on the floor with a sharp meow.

"Well, just keep being you and I'm sure it'll happen."

Billy chuckles and she grins back at him. They stare at each other for too long before Heather turns away, face flushed. Billy scoots over another inch, their thighs now touching. He goes in for the kill.

"You're real pretty, you know that?" His timbre is deep, well-practiced.

Heather's eyebrows raise. She still can't make eye contact.

"Um." She gives a nervous laugh. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna be honest with you."

"I should hope so.."

"Steve's an absolute shithead and you could do better." Billy knows this isn't true. Steve is probably the most eligible person for Heather to date in this podunk town.

She's trying to glare at him now but lacks her usual fire. "Um, okay. I mean, we had this conversation last time. And you're wrong. He's a nice guy."

"You can do better than a nice guy."

"Okay, like who?"

Like she doesn't know the answer. Billy hovers near her ear, arm on the fabric behind her, voice husky. "Me." Billy swears he sees her shiver.

"Um..."

He lets her flounder, watches her try to form words. He wonders whether or not he should put his hand on her shoulder. Maybe in a minute. "The fact that you haven't said anything at all says a lot, doesn't it?."

"I don't think it does?" She's beet red.

"I think you uh-" He runs his gaze over her. Makes sure he's obvious."- kinda have the hots for me."

"No, I _don't_. Where are you getting that from?" She sounds really unconvincing to Billy's ears. It thrills him. It's more than enough reassurance.

"Hmm, let's _think_, Heather." Billy offers a sardonic smile, voice lilting. "Why did you ask _me _over your boyfriend for a ride after you've had a few drinks? Why am _I _the first guy you turn to? Seems strange, doesn't it?"

"I told you why _twice _already."

"You're a terrible liar." He cocks his head, teeth running over his bottom lip. "You're into me."

"You're full of yourself."

"I mean, sure, the alcohol brought it out in you. But I could tell since Teresa's party."

"What are you even talking about?" She scowls.

"You know _exactly _what I mean."

"Not at all." She leans down and picks up Rum-Tum Tugger, places him on her lap. Pets him too roughly while staring at the ground.

"Oh, I think you do."

"I'm into Steve." She inadvertently digs her fingers into Rum-Tum's fur and he bats at her in protest.

"Yeah. _Terrible _liar."

"Oh my god, I should have just walked."

"In this cold? Dumb idea." He pauses, waits for her reply. She's not talking. He eases up a bit, changes the focus. "Why couldn't your parents get you?"

"I hate asking them for anything. Also, I don't want them to know i've been drinking."

Billy gets that. He's never exactly thrilled when Neil finds him hammered. "Fair enough."

Her body's too tense. Demeanor icy. "We should go." In that instant he knows he's lost her, that he came on too strong. Wouldn't be the first time.

"Uh oh, you pissed me at me now?"

"I told you it was gonna happen." Heather smirks. She hops up from the couch and stands in one place for a few seconds, slightly swaying. "Woah...got up too fast."

He stands up quick and puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "You good?"

"I'm fine." She breathes. She grabs her coat from the arm of the couch, shoving her hands into the sleeves. Billy retreats his hand into his pocket and watches her pick up Rum-Tum-Tugger, disappearing with him down a dark hallway.

Billy leans against a wall near the exit, fingering at the pack of Marlboros in his jacket lining. He needs a smoke _bad_. "Sorry you got pissed I guess." He mutters when she returns, walking her bike towards him.

"Wow, you're so sincere." She shoots back. Billy opens the door and waits for her outside as Heather flicks off all the lights.

"You should probably drink some water."

"I'm _fine_." Heather joins him in the cold, bike getting stuck in the doorway before she yanks it out. She locks the door behind her, shoulders hunched.

Billy wants to call her Ice Queen now to get a reaction but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. He's seen how she flares up when he calls her princess. She's probably only mad about it because it soaks her panties. Billy likes that thought too much.

It's okay. He hasn't lost yet. They still have the whole drive to her house.

* * *

In the car, engine running, bike crammed into the trunk, Billy finally gets his tobacco fix. As he exhales a thick haze, he rewinds his Slayer tape.

"Do we _have _to listen to metal again?" Heather's leaning towards him, already easing up on the cold shoulder. He can't blame her. The heat between them is melting his own defences pretty fast.

He fakes mock surprise. "I thought I'd converted you."

"No, it hurts my ears. Could we listen to something else?" She's giving him a look he'd only be able to describe as _high maintenance_. He likes it as much as he hates it. "Please?"

"Yeah, whatever." He's not usually one to give into a chick batting her lashes at him, but he's already done a lot more for her than he'd do for most.

She turns the radio on, moving the dial to some shitty pop station. Billy shifts gears and the car lurches into motion. He glares at her when "Carribean Queen" fills the air, cat-call whistles and all. He rolls down his window a few inches to flick out his ash.

"_Really?_" He sucks sharply on the last of his cigarette as they speed down the dark road.

"It's my turn to irritate you now." She gives him a cocky grin.

"How many turns do you need?" He slows down at a stop sign. Looks both ways purely for her benefit. "Pretty sure you've taken all of them."

"And do you hit on every girl that irritates you?"

"You're the exception." He winks at her to make her squirm. It works. "Doesn't hurt that you're easy on the eyes."

She doesn't respond, going flustered and quiet as the radio serenades them. Billy gets pissed at how cheesy and dumb the song is. Plus It's hard not relate every word to Heather somehow. _I lose my cool when she steps in the room, and I get so excited just from her perfume._ He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tosses his cigarette butt out the window, already thinking about his next one.

Now Heather's leaning close to him again, challenge in her eyes. She's such a strange mix of shy and aggressive. He doubts he'll ever get used to it. "We should race."

Billy snorts. "You're still on that, are you?"

"Come on, how fast are you?"

"I dunno, pretty fast. I'm sure I'd beat any dude on the swim team easy. Those guys are fucking scrawny."

"This is why we need you on the team!" She bats at his arm. She reminds him of an eager puppy, nipping at his ankles. He can almost see her tail wagging. She's too cute.

"You're starting to annoy me, babe."

"Don't call me that."

"You love it." He grins. "Look, I'll race you if it'll get you to shut up about it. Just don't get mad when you lose."

"Yeah right. I'm gonna _win_." She oozes confidence.

Billy's ready to race her from her tone alone, his competitive nature kicking in. "So you're racing me just to show off."

"Maybe." She teases.

That does it. "Alright, tomorrow I'll race you."

"Lets go now."

"Now?" He can't _believe_ this chick.

She laughs at his confusion. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

"You are _full _of surprises tonight." Though he has to admit, seeing Heather strip down to her underwear would be too perfect. He's getting hot under the collar just thinking about it.

"Not really, I've swam there before at night."

"You're such a little _rebel_." He imagines her sneaking out her mansion window, riding her bike down to the school to pick a lock and swim laps in the dark. "Anyone else know you're this fucking weird?"

"I'm not weird!" She pushes at his arm. "I just get bored."

"Don't you have a curfew?"

"Not until eleven. And it's only like nine-thirty now." Her eyes are pleading."C'mon, we _have_ to race."

Billy gives in. "Okay. I'll race you tonight. But if I win.." He offers her a dangerous leer. "..I get a prize."

"What kind of prize?" She looks at him skeptically.

He beams wide at her. "I get to kiss you."

Heather grips the armrest, does one of those breathy nervous laughs again."Oh my _god. _You're _so_ typical."

"It's the only way I'll do it." He shrugs.

She folds her arms, haughty-rich-girl mode enabled. "I mean, I'm gonna win so it's not like it matters."

Billy smirks. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

"You're doing it again." Heather says in frustration. She's so damn easy to get riled up.

"What?"

"Calling me things."

He gives her his most seductive glance, eyes predatory. "Honestly, It's kinda automatic when I'm with a pretty girl." Also, he knows she'll keep her hands on him if he keeps provoking her. It's worked like a charm so far.

Her neck and cheeks bloom bright pink. "That's _so_ lame."

Teasing her delights him way too much. She gets so flushed, so exasperated. Billy has to keep himself from staring at her, forcing his eyes on the road. He just _knows_ she's wet. "You don't have to be ashamed of liking it, _princess_."

"I do not! You're so-"

"Then why are you blushing, _baby_?" He chuckles, waiting for her to paw at his arm again.

"Being embarrassed is not the same as enjoying it!" She huffs, poking at the fabric of his jacket.

"Fine." Billy turns a corner that'll take them directly to Hawkins High. He's actually getting pretty excited for this, body humming with anticipation.

"Just treat me like I'm one of the guys. Like I'm Steve or something."

If she's trying to provoke _him_ now, it's working. "Then you _really _wouldn't like what I'd call you."

The Hawkins High School parking lot is deserted. Billy's wheels crunch over gravel that had been laid down since the last snowfall. He parks in his usual spot, feels weird at being at the same place he usually tries to leave as soon as possible. The radio's playing Tina Turner now. _I'm your private dancer, dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do._ Billy holds back a laugh,snorts and rolls his eyes instead. They're _definitely _listening to Slayer when he drops her off.

He reaches an arm into the backseat, passes a clear bottle full of fluorescent blue liquid to Heather. "Drink this. Don't want you fainting on me like you almost did back there."

She analyzes the label. "Gatorade?"

"Gotta stay hydrated." He sparks up another cigarette. "Y'know, electrolytes and shit."

"I am pretty thirsty actually." Heather breaks the seal with a twist and gulps down almost the entire bottle in one go. She casually wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand. "Thanks."

"Jesus." Billy grabs the bottle from her, grinning. "Good thing I made you drink that. You would have drowned for sure." He pauses, exhaling a stream of smoke in her direction."Real missed opportunity for mouth to mouth though." Heather doesn't dignify that with a response, just scoffs, shaking her head.

He swigs the last remnants and chucks the bottle behind him. "You ready"?

Heather's sporting a look that he's never seen before tonight. Pure arrogance.

"Let's do this."

Billy can't wait to kick her ass.

* * *

Author's Note: This story gets increasingly sexual from this point on, so if you can't handle smut...well, this isn't the story for you lol. It says 'eventual smut' in the description for a reason ;) I'm hoping you guys will look forward to it!


	6. tide is high

Chapter 6: Tide Is High.

* * *

Heather slips her key into the back door of the Hawkins High pool.

"How exactly is it that you have a key again?"

Heather shrugs. "I'm usually the last one to leave, so coach ended up giving me one so he wouldn't have to wait around for me."

"Let me guess, gotta work on your breaststroke?" Billy's eyes gleam at her. He's leaning against the cement wall of the building, watching Heather's downturned lashes.

Heather ignores his provocation. "Haven't lost a race yet."

The door opens and Billy sees the blue lights of the pool emanate in the dark. "Kinda creepy in here."

"Scared?" Heather shoots him a coy look and walks through the door.

"No, just is." Billy follows after her, a wave of chlorine smell hitting him. It's a huge place, with two large swimming pools. He wonders if Hawkins municipality spent their entire budget on their highschool swim team. He's not sure why he hasn't been in here yet. Maybe he didn't want the memories of his lifeguarding days to come ricocheting back to him. He knew the nostalgia would hurt him. It already does.

Heather reaches for the light switch. Billy darts his hand out over hers, her skin soft and cool under his palm.

"Let's leave them off."

"Why?"

"More fun that way." Billy's starts removing his leather jacket and boots, relishing the way Heather gawks at him as he strips down to his underwear. Thanks to the cold, he actually wore his black briefs today. He's tempted to go completely nude but he knows she's not ready for that.

He walks to the pool edge. Looks over his shoulder at Heather with a smirk before diving sharp into the blue. It's a pleasant shock to his system. When he comes to the surface he whips his hair back with a deep inhale. "Jesus, that feels good." He treads water, sees Heather sliding off her jacket and folding it, placing it next to his messy pile. Billy glides towards her. He sets his elbows on the ledge, his eyes on her bold, provoking. She glances down at him sheepishly and slides her sweater and t-shirt over her head. Billy bites his bottom lip with a grin when he sees the lacy pink of her bra.

"Do you have to _watch _?"

"Aren't you like, constantly half naked in front of the whole swim team?"

Heather plays with edge of her jeans before unbuttoning them. "They don't _stare _like that."

Billy flashes his teeth at her. "Maybe if you didn't do it so slow like you're fucking teasing me.."

Heather turns her body away in embarrassment. "Why do you _always _have to make things weird?" She leans over as she pulls her jeans down, like this isn't the best view he could possibly get right now. The sight of her matching pink panties hugging the round flesh of her ass makes his cock twitch.

Heather spins to face the pool and Billy's already impressed by her sleek dive into it. She comes up for air, wipes the water from her face. She swims up close next to him, cute as ever, and Billy has to hold back from putting his mouth on hers right then and there. He swears he sees a look in her eyes like she wants him to do exactly that.

"So, you ready to race or what?"

Billy gives her a provocative once-over. "Are _you _ready?"

"I've been training like crazy. I'm more than ready." Heather pauses for a second, looking at the other pool behind him where there are multiple lanes. "You know what? We should do it super official. Like on the starting blocks."

He looks over his shoulder at the row of small platforms. "Sure."

Heather pulls herself out of the water, striding towards the diving blocks and Billy follows, gaze roving over the glistening skin of her back and bottom from behind, the fabric of her wet underwear clinging to her. He can't believe he's this lucky. She steps onto the platform. "You can do a flip turn, right?"

"Yeah, I can do a fucking turn." Billy gets up onto the block adjacent to her, runs his eyes over her dripping curves.

"And you've dived off one of these before..."

Billy glares at her. "Are you serious right now?"

Heather shoots him a grin. "Just wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself. Let's do a front crawl to the wall and back. You know, something _basic _that anyone could do."

"Aw, you're _cute _." He schmoozes right back at her. "I'll try to go easy on you. I'd tell you not to cry after but something tells me you're a sore loser."

"You should count us in." Heather rests her hands on her knees. "Maybe it'll help give you a slight edge to make you feel better. Least I could do."

Billy smirks. "You're a real cocky one, aren't ya?

"Only trying to help. Come on, count us in. Let's go."

Billy adjusts his weight on the board, leaning forward. "Get ready to pucker up, princess."

"Oh my _god_, just _do _it."

Billy gives a brief chuckle, then settles into starting position. "On your mark. Get set." Both of them tense into tight form." _Go _."

Billy breaks the surface, kicking into a smooth front crawl that's as natural as breathing. His arms and legs move in fluid tandem, head turning for a quick breath after several strokes. He's rusty, a fish out of water for months, but this is his _home _. A rush sets through his veins, a giddy sensation of freedom.

He reaches the other side and does a quick flip, pushing himself off the wall. He knows he said he'd take it easy on Heather but his competitive nature is kicking in. He revs up his momentum, and on his next breath he sees her right next to him. She's _good _. Billy pushes himself harder than he had anticipated, legs moving hard and strong, arms knifing into the surface.

When Billy closes in on the wall, his eyes are open and stinging under the water. He sees Heather touch it a quick moment before he does. He lifts his head out of the water with a gasp. He sees her clutching the wall, chest heaving.

"You're _fast _!" Heather blurts out, like she was expecting to leave him in the dust.

"Yeah, not fast enough." Billy grits out through hard breaths, hand running running over his face. "You're a fucking torpedo. Jesus."

Heather's radiating victory, glowing with pride. "Still, I'm surprised. You're not too bad."

"Yeah, hilarious." He holds onto the tile, wiping his hair back, playing it cool. "Well, congratulations, I guess."

"And I'm _still _kinda tipsy, i'm not even at full form." She brags.

"Yeah and I haven't been training like an Olympian for over a month."

Heather grins, dips under the pool divider and gets into his lane. "We should rematch. Like, when I'm totally sober, and after you've practiced for a bit."

"Yeah?"

She floats towards him, hand grazing the wall, mouth in a teasing smile. "Yeah, I'm gonna destroy you. Again."

Billy's dazed from how purely seductive she is in this moment. Gleaming-wet and confident, chocolate eyes flirting with him.

"Mmm, pretty _and _humble." Billy chuckles, getting closer, drawn to her like a magnet, their faces almost touching. There's a moment of stillness, a flare of desire between them that's unmistakable. It burns him. He can't move. Can't breathe.

Heather leans in first.

Her mouth is so soft. Wet and gentle against his. Before he knows it, his hand is on the back of her head, his tongue slipping between her lips. She opens to him easily, hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck. She lets him lead her, his tongue gliding over hers, teeth pulling tenderly on her bottom lip before he kisses her slow.

She's so sweet, the way she sighs a little when he deepens the kiss, when he grazes his thumb across her jaw. It's such a tease, the way her skin slides on his under the water. She gets even closer,their bodies pressed tight together. She writhes slow and sensual against him and he groans faintly,his cock instantly hard against her belly. It doesn't seem real. It's too perfect.

She suddenly pulls away and the spell breaks. "We shouldn't-"

Billy jerks her back to him, presses his mouth firm against hers until she pushes at his chest.

"Billy, _stop _. We can't."

He releases her, confused, horny. "Why the hell not?"

"It's wrong."

Billy shouldn't be surprised. He should have seen this coming. It still pisses him off. "Feels pretty right to me. And from the way you were humping me I'm pretty sure you liked it."

Heather retreats back under the divider, putting a barrier between them. "I just don't like kissing someone else when I'm seeing Steve."

Billy snorts, anger unfurling in his gut. "_You _kissed _me _."

"I-I messed up."

"What the fuck." Billy laughs harsh, words bitter. "Why the hell is this asshole so important to you? Does he give you good dick or something?"

Heather opens her mouth in shock. "Why would you ask me that? You're _so _perverted! "

"Why can't you answer the question?"

"Why are you so jealous?"

It _enrages _Billy when people accuse him of that. He ducks under the pool divider into her lane, running a hand through his wet hair, tone seething. "Are you trying to _make _me jealous? Are you _fucking _with me or something?"

Heather tenses up, looks helpless. "I'm sorry, I-"

"_You _call me up to give you a ride home." He closes in on her, eyes blazing. "Then _you _drag me here to fucking _swim _with you. And then after you say you're not into me, _you _kiss me. And _I'm _the sleazebag? Fuck off."

"I'm _really _sorry..." She almost whispers. She's starting to tear up.

Billy hates when chicks pull the crying card. Now he feels guilty for no reason. "Jesus, don't start the fucking waterworks."

"Then don't be mean to me." She looks away, lower lip quivering.

"Fuck." Billy breathes. He doesn't want to see her stupid tears right now. He stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to collect himself. He suddenly feels really cold. "Alright. Whatever. I'm taking you home."

Billy hoists himself out of the pool in one quick motion and heads over to his pile of clothes. He pulls down his soaked briefs, not caring if she sees his dick, that he's still half hard. Actually, he wants her to. He struggles with his jeans as the wet of his legs impedes him. He looks behind him and sees Heather standing over her own clothes, her back to him, undoing her bra. He can't stop another rush of desire hitting him.

"You're the most confusing chick I've ever fucking met." He fumes. "Where's Ms. Priss now? You play coy so well I almost believed you."

Her voice is tense, miserable. "I'm not going to wear wet underwear in the cold. Don't look at me."

"_Fine. _" He turns away from her, yanking the rest of his clothes onto his limbs. He's so mad at her he could scream. When he's finally dressed he leans against the wall facing the exit.. After a minute she comes up next to him, eyes down, looking cold and wet under her coat. Billy hates himself for wanting to hold her, kiss her again, make her stop looking so pathetic.

They silently exit the back door and Heather locks it behind her.

"I'm sorry." She says again. She looks guilty as hell. It makes him feel like shit.

Billy gnaws at the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, whatever. You had a few drinks, I guess."

"Um...yeah."

Billy feels like shit all the way to the car.

When Billy starts the engine of Camaro, he blasts heat and cranks up the music, barely registering that its fucking Culture Club. It doesn't cover the tension; the ride is wordless for several minutes. The night feels sharp, piercing into his skin. He wanted to kiss her but this is all wrong. He's strained everywhere, his chest tight. He needs a goddamn cigarette.

"I don't know what came over me." She says softly.

Billy exhales hard through his nose, glaring at the road. "It's not fucking rocket science, Heather."

She breathes out slow, anxious hands wringing. Billy doesn't know what to say to her. Wouldn't talk to her even if he did, his ego hovering on obliteration. He didn't think of what would happen _after _they kissed. Never anticipated the rage and resentment he would feel when she pulled away and claimed loyalty to Steve over him. He never thought of the possibilities, the consequences. He was stupid, only thinking with his dick again. Doesn't help that she beat him at something he's pretty good at too. Fucking bitch. He should have just taken her home right away.

The Camaro lurches to a stop in front of her big house, and once again Billy hates the sight of it. He's out the door before Heather even takes off her seatbelt. He wrenches the bike out of the trunk, thrusts it into her arms when she trudges near to him, looking little-girl-lost.

"I really like you, you know." Heather's voice is choked. "I'm just...confused."

Billy looks somewhere in the distance, avoiding her gaze. His teeth worry at his lower lip for a second before he mutters. "Yeah. I know."

"I _am _attracted to you." She confesses. "Like, a lot."

Billy can't help how his breath catches. He hides it with a sneer. "Obviously."

"I just need to think about this."

"Do whatever the hell you want." Billy shrugs. "Not my problem."

"I'm sorry..." She meets his gaze, puppy dog eyes glistening. "I messed up."

She really needs to stop pulling that cute and pitiful shit on him. It's making him want to kiss her better. "Jesus, It's _fine_. Just forget about it, alright." He slams the trunk shut, starts circling to the driver's seat.

"I don't know if I can." He hears her mumble, voice tinged with longing.

Billy stops in his tracks, feeling a crackle of heat in his body. He looks back at her, predatory glint in his eye again. But cruel this time. Vengeful. "Well, baby-" He yanks his door open. "Guess you're just gonna have to fucking deal."

He's in the car before Heather can say anything else, door slamming, engine revving. He whips out onto the road, riding fast and dangerous down her street. When he glances in his rear view mirror, she's gone, only the dark road behind him.

* * *

_Billy's in the forest. Dark, green and dewy. His bare feet pass over dirt and rock, wet pebble, rough sand. He's been here before. _

_He ducks down under branches. It's pitch black but he can see clearly. Branch and vine. Branch and vine. A soft wash of sound hums in his ears. Waves lapping. He's naked. It's warm._

_He sees a glimmer of light in the distance, ethereal, prickling through leaves. Hears a laugh, bell-like. He turns toward it. Sees movement, a radiant star rushing through trees. He follows it, feels it drawing him in. He's deep in wet thicket, his hands pushing at branches that open around him like a gateway. Bramble brushes his skin, moisture dripping into his eyes. His feet slide in mud._

_He bursts onto the other side. He sees vast ocean under a full moon big and bright. Wind blows at him. Warm. Inviting. Salt air and seaweed. He walks slowly towards the incoming tide. Finally home. Finally._

_Heather is at the ocean's edge. Standing naked and pure in the moon's glow. Hair long and wild, rippling behind her like the water that flows over her feet. She reaches an arm out to him. He's at her side. Takes her hand in his. Her skin shimmers like opal._

"_You came." She whispers._

"_I had to." His mouth doesn't move. She understands._

_She smiles, motioning towards the dark expanse of ocean. "Look."_

_The waves light up in phosphorescent blues. Neon and unearthly. Illuminating the darkness. Moving in rhythmic color towards them. They splash over his feet and he laughs. It's been so long since he's seen this._

"_It's like magic." She squeezes his hand._

"_Red tide. Happens every once in awhile. Mom used to take me down here to see it."_

_Heather's eyes are deep. They tell him everything. "You'll see it again." _

_She's so beautiful. Billy wraps his arms around her and kisses her. Her skin warm and wet against his. He feels her melt into him. She tastes like ocean, like moonlight. He's afraid if he stops, it'll end._

_She starts to dissolve into sparkling ether, as luminous as the water._

"_Don't go." He holds her tight. His vision is swimming. He can't see a thing. She's going to vanish from his arms._

_He feels her soft palm on his cheek._

"_I'm right here." _

_BILLY!_

* * *

Billy wakes up with a jolt. Susan is knocking at his door, calling to him.

"_Billy. _"

"What..." He groans, reality sledgehammering him in the face. He plants his pillow over his head, burrowing into the covers. He can still smell sea water, feel lips pressed to his.

"I _said, _phone's for you. It's that girl again."

"_What? _"

"That same girl that called last time. Could you _please _tell her not to call this early? Neil almost had a fit."

The mention of Neil startles him to sharp clarity.

"Jesus Christ." He tears back his blankets, shoving his legs into pajama bottoms. He staggers towards the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the counter. Susan's rummaging through cupboards next to him for cereal. He turns away from her and places the phone against his ear.

"Are you _insane_?" He hisses through clenched teeth.

"I had to talk to you." Heather says weakly.

"At six in the goddamn morning?" Billy keeps glancing behind him at Susan. Eyes scanning the dining room. Neil's not here. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"It's a Monday. Aren't you up by now?"

_"Now _I am." He snaps. He tries to keep his voice low, but Susan is looking at him suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Um.." Her voice cracks. She clears her throat. "I broke up with Steve."

Billy nearly implodes. Heart stopping. He can't say anything, throat dried up.

Heather continues nervously. "I just...needed to tell you."

"When did this happen?" He runs a hand through his hair, breathing out shakily. He's sweating.

"Last night."

Billy's palm slides down his face. He feels dizzy. He's not sure whether he's still dreaming or not. "Okay. Well. Thanks for sharing, I guess. Did this really warrant a phone-call?"

"Maybe." She's silent for a moment. " And..um.. I think you're going to get mad at what I'm about to ask you next..."

"Probably."

He hears her exhale hard. "...Can I have a ride to school?"

Billy would throw the phone across the room if it wasn't attached to a cord. " _Jesus. _You _are _insane."

"My bike chain is still broken..." She protests. He can almost see her giving him those puppy-dog eyes again.

"Can't your butler take you or something?" He's winding the phone cord around his hand, muscles tense, pushing at Max's skateboard with his foot. It rolls across the floor, slowing down before it hits the wall with a light thud.

"We don't _have _a butler. And I feel weird asking my parents for a ride."

"And you don't feel weird asking _me _?" Billy grits out. He can't turn her down for some reason though. Maybe because he just dreamed of her being an ethereal light being a few minutes ago. "Fuck. Fine. I'll drive you. Just get your chain fixed, alright. Or get a goddamn car."

"When will you be here?"

"Fuck, I dunno." He sighs. He glances at the clock on the wall. "Like quarter to eight."

"Okay. I'll see you in a bit." She says lightly, voice laced with anxiety. "Um. Thanks again for the ride."

"Yeah, whatever." Billy slams the phone down in the cradle. Susan jumps, touches his arm as he walks by, eyebrows raised at him. Billy snorts, heads to his room. He resists slamming the door off its hinges.


	7. i'm in too deep

Billy slams his dresser drawers shut, chewing at his lip, tense as he slides a white t-shirt over his head. He goes through his morning routine in an agitated trance. Distracted. Mind racing.

He shouldn't be this frustrated. He shouldn't be this confused. Wasn't _he _the one who offered to give Heather a regular ride to school last week? Wasn't he the one fantasizing about Heather ditching Steve for him? Didn't he even tell her that she should?

It's the way she _does _things. Unexpected. Erratic. Childish. It's the way she _asks _things of him. The way she gives him a vibe that she's gonna ask for _a lot _. It's the way he's already giving her what she wants and he barely knows her. She thinks she can have it all because she's cute. Because she's been given everything she wants on a silver platter her whole damn life. What's she going to want later? What weird surprise is she going to spring on him next? Billy doesn't like surprises.

He didn't see this coming. Didn't expect Heather to _actually _break up with Steve. He expected a stolen kiss at most. He was just going on instinct when he tried to make a move on her, not thinking about anything other than the moment. Billy just says things. Billy just does things. Where it leads to he doesn't care. He lives on impulse. Sometimes it gets him in trouble. He's had enough experience to know it leads to regrets.

This is happening too fast.

He has to admit though. He's going to feel pretty damn good when he rolls up to school today with Heather in his car. When he sees Steve Harrington's face.

Billy stops at that thought, mouth pulling into a grin.

It's going to be priceless.

* * *

Billy waits in the Camaro for Max, smoking and listening to Motley Crue. Max manages to make him wait even after he told her to be ready early. She opens the door, starts to slip into the passenger seat.

"Backseat." Billy doesn't look at her, a halo of smoke wafting around his head.

"Why?"

"Picking a girl up."

Max pushes the seat down hard. "Great." She lands in the back with an annoyed thud.

Billy pulls out onto the road faster than he should in the snow. Old habits die hard. The sun is still rising in a reddish haze over the horizon when they reach the end of Cherry Lane, light making frost sparkle.

"Who's this girl again?"

"Someone from school." Billy drawls out; dry, evasive. It only makes Max more curious.

"Well, duh. What's her name?"

Billy pauses, takes another slow inhale of nicotine. Last thing he needs is Max pestering him right now. "Heather." He makes his tone a warning.

Max ignores the hint. "So is she your new girlfriend or something? What happened to that Teresa girl?"

"She's _not _my girlfriend. Neither was Teresa."

"So like, you just have sex with them? _Gross _."

His eyes shoot daggers at her through the rearview mirror. "None of your fucking business what I do, shitbird."

Max scowls, her arms crossed tightly, staring at passing houses. Minutes go by, wordless. Max places the soles of her scuffed sneakers on the back of the passenger seat. Billy's nostrils flare when he catches her, cigarette butt flicking out the window.

"Thought I told you to stop doing that, Max." Billy meets her gaze in the mirror with a look that would make most people's hair stand on end.

She rolls her eyes unfazed, feet retreating as she glances out the window. "Why are we driving _past _the school?"

"Because she _lives _past the school, genius."

"Well, she must be special. You won't even drive me past the arcade 'cause it's _too far _apparently.

Max is such an ungrateful asshole sometimes. "Hey, anyone who puts their feet up in my car gets bare minimum. You're lucky I even fuckin' take you there."

Blue eyes meet in the car mirror, glowering and stormy for a moment before Max looks away. She slouches deeper into the seat, releasing an indignant sigh.

"You've got a real attitude problem these days, you know that? It isn't cute."

"_ I _have an attitude problem?" Max scoffs. "You're the freaking poster child."

"Don't start with me, Max." Billy keeps his tone low. He knows it's more threatening that way. "Unless you wanna walk from now on."

"I'm telling Neil that you're being shitty again." She grumbles, giving him more stink eye.

"Yeah? Wait 'til I tell him I caught you coming home smelling like a fucking _grow-op _the other day." Billy smirks at the sudden fear in her eyes. "You a lil' stoner now, Max? You get high with your little friends?"

That shuts her up real quick. "Ugh, you're such a _jerk. _" She goes back to looking out the window, jaw clenched.

Billy feels warm triumph rise in his chest. He always knows how to take her down a notch. He's probably too smug about outwitting a thirteen year old girl, but she's so goddamn mouthy these days she's practically asking for it. He'll take her down any chance he can get. Arrogant little twerp.

* * *

When they reach Heather's house, Billy's hesitant to pull into her driveway. He parks against the curb. Honks his horn twice. Max bursts forward in her seat.

"Holy shit." Max breathes."This is her place?"

"_Yup_." Billy lets the last letter pop from his mouth, not about to explain more. He sees Heather's white front door open in the distance, and his whole body tightens up, stomach fluttering.

"So you're dating a millionaire?"

"Jesus, would you stop with the fucking questions?" Billy clicks opens the glove compartment and grabs his aviators. He needs a buffer from the world right now.

"Alright, just...wasn't expecting this." She cranes her neck forward, peering at Heather's petite form approaching them. "That's her? She's pretty."

Billy puts his sunglasses on, not responding. Everything goes sepia. Including Heather, who's walking past the front of his car, circling to the passenger seat. Her hair is worn down and wild, draped over one shoulder. Her large hoop earrings catch the light, shimmering and opalescent. Billy flashes back to his dream and gets goosebumps up his back.

Heather opens the door, eyes averted."Um, hi…" She sees Max in the back as she sits down, and smiles at her. "Oh, hello. Who's this?"

"Stepsister." Billy mumbles, head tilted back against his seat.

Max shoots Billy a glare for the lack of introduction. "I'm Max."

Heather twists and extends her hand. Max takes it slow and wary. "Nice to meet you, Max. I'm Heather. I really love your hair by the way."

"Um. Thanks."

Heather turns to face the road while Max looks at Billy through the mirror with raised eyebrows and a smirk. Billy's glad he's wearing shades. He rewinds his Motley Crue tape, still barely acknowledging the girl next to him.

"Hey, I know this song." Heather says as they start moving, "Looks That Kill" playing from his speakers.

"Yeah, who fucking doesn't." Billy mutters.

He can sense Heather bristle next to him. She stays quiet. Billy wonders what she would say if his stepsister wasn't in the car. He's annoyed that Max is here, creating a barrier between them. She's always in the way.

Heather and Max end up chatting the entire way there, Heather asking all of the questions with genuine interest. She wants to know how school is, what Max feels about Hawkins, what movies she likes, what music she listens to. Max actually doesn't seem to mind answering honestly, neither of them bothering to include him in their conversation. Billy has hand it to Heather, she's good at covering tension.

Billy arrives at Hawkins High, parking in his usual spot with fifteen minutes to spare. He's rarely this early. Heather gets out of the car to let Max out.

Max peeks in the car at Billy before she goes. "Hey, Dustin's mom is taking us all out for milkshakes after school so...won't be here." She leans in further, speaking under her breath at him. "Could you _be _more awkward? What _was _that?" She pushes the seat back for Heather and leaves.

Heather climbs back in and the car suddenly seems too small. Billy feels inside his jacket for another cigarette but the pack is empty.

"I know you're mad at me." Heather says softly. Billy permits himself to look at her. She's all vulnerable eyes and flowing locks. "I'm not totally sure _why _you still are though. I thought you wanted this?"

"What the hell gave you that idea?" He scans over the way her earrings frame her face, how soft her hair looks. He wants to touch it.

Heather's jaw drops. "You're not _really _going to play that game, are you? You told me I should dump Steve. I thought you wanted me to be with you."

Billy snorts. "You sure assume a lot."

Her brows crease together, confused. "But I thought-"

"Look", Billy takes off his sunglasses, tosses them on the dashboard.. "You're cute and all, but I just said that crap 'cause I was bored and thought we could fool around for a bit. It didn't actually _mean _anything."

Heather folds her arms. She's not buying it. "You seemed to get pretty butt-hurt for a guy that was just _bored _."

"You're looking way too deep into it."

"Why did you give me a ride today then?"

"I'm just very charitable."

Heather's shoulders sink. "You think I should have stayed with Steve.."

"No. But that's just common sense."

"You're so typical." Heather laughs, but she's clearly hurt, maybe even embarrassed. "Okay, fine. We're not anything." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "You don't even want to hang out with me?"

Billy thinks of the possibility of never kissing her again. Of never getting past first base. He doesn't like it. "I never said that."

"So...you want to hang out?"

"I _guess_." Billy shrugs. That makes Heather's face light up in relief. She never seems to hide her feelings. It's as sweet as it is annoying. "Nothing _serious _though."

"Okay..."She shrugs back at him. "Nothing serious."

"It would just be hanging out, not me buying you dinner or some shit like that."

"I don't need anyone to buy me dinner."

Billy chuckles at that understatement. "You definitely don't."

"I just want to have fun with you." She looks so hopeful, so naive.

"Okay." Billy can't believe how on board she is for this. "So we won't call it anything. I won't owe you anything. We'll just..." He rakes his gaze over her, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. "..have fun."

Her eyes dart away from his, cheeks pink. "That's fine. I mean, I'm pretty busy anyways."

"Whatever, just don't get your hopes up, alright. I've had way too many chicks pull that shit on me. Spare me the tears." Billy leans over her to open the glove compartment, sparks flying up his spine when he brushes her arm. He takes his other pack of Marlboros and slips them into his jacket, opening his door with a grunt.

When his feet touch the ground, Billy notices Steve's car pull up, parking several spots away from them. Billy grins as he slams his door shut. He leans against his Camaro, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with relish. This is going to be good.

Heather's soon at his side, opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut when she sees Steve's car. She tenses when he opens the door, his brown-mopped head popping up into view.

"We should go." Heather mutters, starting towards the school.

Billy grabs her forearm, pulling her back against the Camaro, eyes glued to Steve's head. "We still got ten minutes."

"I..I have to get stuff from my locker."

Steve spots them. Freezes like a deer about to get run over. Perfect. Billy reaches an arm around Heather and yanks her tight to him, grip crushing. He feels her try to squirm away. He grips harder. Billy leers at Steve, taking a deep drag of smoke, adrenaline soaring.

"What are you doing?" Heather whispers, elbow digging into his ribs.

Billy winces but doesn't let up. He leans in close to her ear, lips brushing her neck to be extra obvious. "Come on, baby. Thought you wanted this." Heather turns her head to glare at him. Billy kisses her firm on the mouth.

To his surprise she doesn't fight it, feels her give in to him right away. His body flares up at her quick surrender. He deepens the kiss, almost getting carried away before he rips his head from hers to see Steve's reaction. It's worth it.

Steve looks absolutely crestfallen, mouth parted in shock. He shakes his head at Heather in total disgust before he turns and walks away. Billy chuckles in his throat. Victory is sweet.

Heather wrenches herself from Billy's grasp. "I can't _believe _you!"

"What, like he wasn't going to find out? Word travels fast around here."

Her eyes are blazing fury. "I wanted to tell him personally."

"You just did." Billy smirks.

"You're a mean person, Billy." She points her finger at him like that's somehow threatening. "That was flat out _mean_."

"You seem to like mean. Kissed me back like you wanted me to give it to you right here in the parking lot." Billy gives her a suggestive look. "You into being watched?"

Heather stares at him in disbelief. "Oh my _god_. What is _wrong _with you?"

"Never thought you'd be into public stuff. But that's kinda hot." Billy exhales a silky haze in her direction, oozing smugness.

"You're sick." Heather snaps, fanning smoke away from her face. "I'm leaving now." She turns and abandons him and the Camaro, striding towards the school in a huff.

"See you in class!" Billy calls after her, corner of his mouth twisting up when she looks back to scowl at him. He continues his nicotine-fuelled ritual, reliving the sensation of Heather's lips against his, over and over until he flicks his cigarette butt in the snow. He stares at the highschool, beige and bland, and remembers that Max isn't going to need a ride home today. That he's going to be alone with Heather again. His body thrums with anticipation.

He's going to need more of her soon. A lot more.

And just kissing isn't going to cut it.

* * *

It's a weird day. Billy sits in the back of every class like he normally does, except Heather can't stop glancing over her shoulder to look at him every few minutes. It's probably because he's staring at the back of her head with a gaze hot enough to melt her skin right off. Everytime she glances back at him he just smirks in return; keeps staring until her face burns red and she turns away. He can't help it. Everything is so much worse now that he's tasted her. It's a good thing that the semester ends in a couple of weeks. If he gets all the same classes with her again next semester he's going to fucking drop out. Might as well. Not like he's going to learn anything when she's here.

When the school day comes to a close and they're back in his Camaro, Heather weirdly doesn't seem to be mad at him anymore. Doesn't bring up Steve. Billy lets her play the radio again. Maybe it'll help her like him enough for him to make another move on her. Of course, the only thing with decent reception is stupid pop music so they're stuck listening to Madonna. They sit there in the parking lot for a few minutes while Billy smokes with the window rolled down an inch. Heather stares at her nails, fiddles with her earrings, glances at him and smiles before looking away.

"How do you _listen _to this shit?" Billy finally asks, grimacing.

Heather frowns at Madonna's nasal voice. "Honestly, it's not my first choice either. Sometimes they play okay stuff though."

"Really. So what do you listen to? Like, Christian Folk or something?" Billy mocks her with his eyes.

Heather laughs. "_No_. I like Talking Heads, Kraftwerk. Brian Eno. That kind of stuff."

"Huh. I knew you were weird."

"I'm weird? Have you actually heard the music you listen to?"

"Just didn't think you'd be into that geeky shit. Better than Madonna I guess."

Heather stares out the window for several seconds before whipping around to face him. "Hey I have an idea. Why don't we go to the record store downtown? I want to pick up a few albums. It could be our first real _hang out_." She pokes him for extra emphasis.

"The record store?" Billy actually wouldn't mind that. He's only been downtown a few times. Didn't even notice they _had _a record store.

"Yeah, it'll be fun." She gives him one of those cute smiles that makes Billy feel lightheaded.

He shrugs, starting the engine. "Fuck it. Let's see what shit music this town sells."

* * *

JS Records actually has a pretty decent selection. It's a tiny place. Smells like old cardboard and stale cigarettes. The floors creak. Every square inch of space is used up. Billy can barely move in it without bumping into something. It's kind of cool. Granted, it's full of soft rock crap, and it wouldn't even come close to the selection in San Diego, but at least they _have _a metal section. They even have _Ride The Lightning _and Billy's been itching to get his hands on it. Too bad he's broke until Neil gives him his next allowance. Billy slides a finger over the plastic of the record cover. Maybe if he didn't waste so much gas money driving Heather around-

"More Metallica, huh?" Heather's suddenly at his side. "You gonna get it?" She starts blowing a pink bubble between her lips. Her arms are overflowing with cassettes and records. They've been here for almost an hour, Heather immediately going off in a separate direction to explore. Billy kind of digs how she does her own thing, though she browses way too long for his taste.

"Jesus, why don't you just buy the place?"

"Not a bad idea" She grins, smacking her gum. 'So you gonna get it? You've been looking at it for like ten minutes." She blows a giant bubble that's half the size of her head. Billy smirks and pops it with his finger. "Hey!" She mumbles as she awkwardly sucks it back into her mouth and kicks him lightly in the shin.

"I dunno." Billy says mid-chuckle as she shifts all her items into one hand and rubs the excess gum off her face. "Not really feeling anything here right now." He reaches out and grabs her chin, wipes her lip off with his thumb.

"Really? Are you sure?" The color in her face is rising but she tries to play it off casual.

"Yeah, it's just cool a place like this even exists in this shithole."

"It's like the only place worth going to. I rode my bike here all the time before it snowed. Apparently they're building a mall nearby but that won't be done til next summer."

"Well, I'll definitely come back." He pauses, glancing at her albums. "Not with you though, you take forever."

She beams at him. "Thanks for waiting."

"I'll be in the car while you buy all that shit. I need a smoke." He puts his palm on the small of Heather's back as pushes past her. Any excuse to touch her works for him. It's definitely working for her by the way she keeps turning pink.

He heads to the front door, and almost gets bodychecked on the way out. "Hey, watch where you're fucking going." Billy takes a good look at the culprit.

It's Jonathan Byers. The freak. Billy classifies him as creepy loser, but he _did _punch Steve Harrington in the face _and _steal his girl, so he gets automatic points from him. Jonathan doesn't even look at him, making a beeline into the store like a man on a mission. Dude clearly hates people, lives in a world all his own. Billy would respect that if the guy wasn't so goddamn weird.

Billy returns to the Camaro and sits there for a long while, smoking steadily, staring into the now-dark horizon. For some reason he keeps the radio on even though they're playing Prince now. Actually, he has to admit he likes it. Billy wonders how much Purple Rain is at this record store, if the movie is still playing at the drive-in. He heard the girl shows her tits in it.

Heather jerks open the passenger door, cold air rushing in. "Sorry that took so long. I had to find a trashcan for my gum." She lands in her seat in a big heap, plastic shopping bags piling around her. She shuts the door behind her, looking at him guiltily. "Most of these are gifts by the way."

"Whatever, I'm not gonna judge you for liking music."

"Okay, about ten percent of these are gifts."

"Knew it." He cruises out onto the road. Heather shoves the bags down until they've compressed into neat mountains around her feet.

"There." She sighs, admiring her handiwork.

She needs to stop being so fucking cute. "Try not to crush them all before we get to your place, alright."

They exit the downtown core, stopping at a red light. Heather clears her throat. "Um. Okay, I might have gotten you something."

"What." Billy snaps his head in her direction.

She pulls Ride The Lightning out of one of the bags, glowing joyfully. "I couldn't resist."

"_Jesus_, you didn't have to fucking do that." Billy glances at the road, back to the shiny album in her hands. A part of him wants to get mad at her for bothering, but she's so genuinely excited right now he can't bring himself to.

"Consider it an early Christmas present." She looks at the album cover. "I like the electric chair on the front. So spooky."

That first sentence makes Billy on edge. "Don't expect anything in return or whatever. I can't exactly throw money at shit like you do." He fiddles absently with the temperature knob. "Also, I just fucking met you."

"Oh." Heather's eyes widen, lips parted in sudden realization. "Yes, of course. I don't expect anything. I don't want anything, really. Sorry. You were literally just talking about stuff like this. Stupid of me.." She gives a nervous laugh, shoving the record back into the bag. "I just like giving people stuff."

Billy wishes she didn't get all embarrassed about it. She was so happy before. "No, it's cool. Seriously." He puts his arm on the back of her headrest. "Thanks." He means it.

She gives him a relieved smile. "I really hope you like it."

Minutes pass. They barely talk but it's not awkward. She doesn't seem to care whether they speak or not. Billy gets a strong feeling that she's used to being alone. She doesn't seem to try to fill silence with words like most people. It's weird how easy it is to just sit in that emptiness with her, that peace. What isn't easy is how badly he wants to pull her into the back seat with him.

He shifts his hand, starts sliding it down the edge of her chair. He reaches her jean-covered thigh and glides his fingers down the fabric until he captures her knee in his palm. He feels her twitch under him. She still says nothing, but a moment later her hand is on his. Small and cold.

"You're fucking freezing." He covers her fingertips, letting his warmth seep into her, rubbing into her skin to get her blood flowing.

"You're really warm." She sounds quiet, tender. "You feel nice."

"Uh...you too." Billy twines his fingers with hers, palm against palm. They stay that way for the entirety of a Spandau Ballet song. Billy can't really hear it.

He parks on the side of the road in front of her house again. He gets that familiar awkward feeling when he looks at it, like he doesn't belong here. He glances at Heather, fingers still entwined.

"I had a nice time." She squeezes his hand.

"Yeah, it wasn't bad." He grunts, releasing her fingers, suddenly aware that they're holding hands, listening to love songs. His palm moves back on the wheel. "You never punched my arm once though, kinda disappointed."

"You actually behaved for most of it."

"It won't last long." He promises.

"So..." She pulls at one of her earrings. "-would you ever want to do something like this again with me?"

He shrugs as nonchalant as possible. "I don't see why not."

She smiles wide. "So you like me after all." She shifts towards him, eyes warm. Billy melts into them too easily, gets a flare of heat in his belly. He can't resist matching her movement.

He leans in close, face hovering near hers. "Barely. But I think you're starting to win me over already. Something about your mouth."

Heather rolls his her eyes, but her cheeks are burning up again. "Do you want to get to know me?"

Billy loves how she gets so flushed for him. All he has to do is be himself. He looks at her inviting lips, back to her doe-eyes. "I think I know too much already."

"Do you want to kiss me?" Heather murmurs with a shy grin, eyes glancing away like she can't handle the heat of his gaze, can't handle how close he is right now.

He brushes his nose against hers slowly, teasing, hearing her soft inhale. "Maybe."

"I think you do." She bites her lip, squirms in her seat.

A sudden bolt of lust hits him. "Yeah."

Billy's mouth is on hers in one strong motion. She parts her lips for him instantly, kissing him back just as hard. Their tongues and lips slide over each other in a way he's going to crave the rest of his life. Lush. Raw. Carnal. His hand skims over her cheek before it cradles the back of her head, pulling her deeper into his mouth. She tastes like strawberry bubblegum, smells like warm vanilla. Billy feels more desperate for her than he should for anybody. He soaks her in, lets her bleed into his memory permanently. Heather looks dizzy when he finally pulls away.

"Wow." She exhales hard like she's trying to recover. He can't blame her. "You kiss really thoroughly for someone who barely likes me."

"Come back to my place." Billy rasps, hand running down her arm. "I get way more thorough than that."

She gives him a weak smile. "I can't."

"Why not?" He's breathing heavy, too hard in his jeans to think straight.

"I have to be home for dinner."

"So?" Billy leans in, slowly kisses her throat, her jaw, the delicate skin underneath her ear. Her breath gets heavier with each press of his lips.

"I have to go home." Her voice is shaky.

"Backseat is also an option if you wanna be quick. I'll still get you off, I promise."

Heather gasps softly at his blunt offer. "Okay..I-I'm really not ready for that yet."

"Your mouth seems more than ready." Billy murmurs against her earlobe.

"Don't."

"You're so pretty..." He gently bites her neck, tongue slipping out to taste her.

"_Don't. _" Heather pushes against his chest and he stops. She gives him a serious look. "Can't you appreciate the moment we just had? Why do you need to rush it? That was a lot for a first date- I mean, hang-out. Don't rush me."

"Oh, I _do _appreciate it. I just want to appreciate you some more." Billy's eyes heat up. "All of you."

"It's not going to happen."

"Yet." Billy says cockily. "And trust me, that _wasn't _a lot. Not even close."

Heather shakes her head, a mixture of disappointment and desire on her face. She reaches in one of the plastic bags for Billy's gift and hands it to him. "Your overconfidence never ceases to amaze me."

"Come over and you'll be more than amazed." He purrs, placing the album in his lap.

"Nope." She unbuckles her seatbelt, starts shifting away from him, grabbing her bags.

"Fine." Billy sees her reach for the door handle. He puts his hand on her arm. "Hey, wait. Don't leave just yet." Heather looks back at him skeptically. "Let me say goodnight."

Billy moves in close again, palms moving to gently cup her face. He leans in to kiss her once more. She lets him. This time it's slow and searching, but just as intense. Just as primal. When he releases her, she's even more disoriented.

"Goodnight, Heather." He says huskily, sultry gaze promising everything and more.

"Uh…" She gulps, inching out the door. "Goodnight."

Billy watches as she hurries in clipped steps towards the white of her house. Like she's afraid of something. Afraid of his need for her. Afraid of what he makes her feel. He can sense it in his chest, a reflecting awareness. He sighs in frustration.

Fuck, he just wanted to get laid . And so did she. She's just being a prude. A priss. She needs some dick to get it out of her system. Billy knows she's real slutty underneath it all. No one would kiss like that if they weren't. She's probably gonna lie in bed tonight in her wet little panties, touching herself while she imagines him inside her.

He groans at that image. That thought isn't helping him. He looks at the Metallica album on his lap.

He's actually starting to really like her.


	8. like a dream in the night

A/N: Okay y'all, warning: there's some SERIOUS smut in this chapter. I wasn't joking. Thanks to those who have followed/favorited and commented. Really appreciate it. :)

* * *

Billy drives Heather to school the next day. It's slightly less awkward but Max's irritating presence still makes it weird. Billy's contemplating giving her away for adoption. Shipping her in a box to the middle of nowhere. Anything to get her the hell away from him.

After first period, Tommy approaches Billy at his locker, face in that ever-present leer.

"Hargrove, you dog you!" He slaps him hard on the back and makes a harsh woofing sound that reverberates down the hallway. "Getting up in that rich-girl pussy after all."

Usually this kind of talk would make Billy feel pumped but right now it's annoying as hell.

Tommy continues. "I was pretty close myself but you know how it is with the old ball and chain." Tommy and Carol had gotten back together literally the day after Teresa's party. Surprise surprise. "So tell me, how is she? She give head? Please tell me she gives head."

He's never wanted to strangle Tommy more than this moment. "You're a real class act there, Higgins. Like I'm going to tell you all the dirty details."

Tommy sneers. "So she hasn't yet."

Billy leans against his locker, glowering. "You really think Ms. Priss is gonna give it up after one date?" Not that he didn't try anyways. "Have you _met _this chick? Girls like her need to be...persuaded. Y'know, _buttered up_."

"Well, fuck me sideways." Tommy smirks. "Hargrove playing the long game. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Pussy this good takes time." He needs to say something that'll shut Tommy up, satiate his endless horny curiosity. "And trust me, from the preview I got the other day, when princess gives in.." He leans forward, lowering his voice with a lewd grin."...she's gonna make these highschool sluts look like nuns."

Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back once more. "_Billy_, my _man_. I think you're my hero. You better tell me everything once she puts out."

If Tommy touches him again he's going to punch his face in. Billy snorts, smacking Tommy too hard on the shoulder, making him grimace. "I'm not gonna tell you _shit._"

* * *

Every day is a tightening band; he could snap at any moment. She's so close but so far. If Billy doesn't have her soon he's going to lose it. He gives Heather a ride to and from school daily, strain between them overwhelming. Max doesn't miss their obvious tension from the backseat, always managing to make some sly comment when Heather cant hear her. He can't even drive her alone from swimming practice again because the pool's closed until January. Heather keeps a fair distance between them at school, seemingly wary after their last time together. But every time they make eye contact he knows she's losing it just as much as he is.

Halfway through the week he _does _snap, dragging Heather into the dark janitors closet when no one's looking, pinning her against the wall. He grinds up into her, mouth feral on hers. She moans quiet and helpless, the soft skin of her neck burning under his lips, her nails digging into his shoulders. She kisses him back so dirty he nearly creams himself. It's the hottest thing that's ever happened to him with his clothes on.

She's going to cave soon. Any day now. Definitely before Christmas.

He just needs to get her alone again.

* * *

Its the last day before Christmas vacation before he gets his chance, only managing to get a few quick kisses out of her before then. Heather is the one who asks to hang out. Billy knew it would have to be that way. Especially with how she got all skittish on him after the record store date. He needed her to come to him. Make it all her idea. Then he can pounce. She's so worked up by this point, the chances of her not putting out are slim to none.

"You um...want to come over today?" Heather asks after school when they're waiting in the car for Max. She's so obvious. So not-smooth. "The house will be empty. Uh- I mean, we could watch a movie or something. Or like, listen to records."

Billy gives her a crooked grin. "Listen to records, huh? Well that sounds real fun. You gonna show me all that robot shit you listen to?"

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to."

He moves in close to her, mouth inches from hers. "And miss out on all that _synth_? Wouldn't dream of it." Their lips almost touch before Max knocks on Heathers door. Heather smiles sheepishly and gets out, letting her into the backseat.

Max is giving Billy the biggest smirk through the car mirror. "Sorry to interr-"

Billy cuts her off. "You're going home first today, Max."

She gives him a confused look. "Why?"

He glances at Heather next to him. "Heather and I are going to...hang out."

"_Finally._" Max says with a relieved eye-roll. "You guys were being so weird."

Billy ignores that.

Thankfully it hasn't snowed again, the roads clear. He speeds back to his house in record time, dropping Max off without a goodbye. He turns the car around, speeding all the way to Heather's place. His hand is on her knee, squeezing slightly. She's quiet, just keeps glancing at him with coy smiles. She's killing him.

The Camaro screeches to a halt near the end of her driveway.

Heather unbuckles her seatbelt. "Um, just letting you know. My parents are going to be home in about an hour."

That's more than enough time. He gets out of the car, barely hiding his eagerness. He follows her up her driveway. It's only during the walk up the front steps that he realizes what he's in for. That he's never been in a house this big. His jaw nearly drops as soon as his foot crosses over the threshold.

"Holy_ shit. _"

He's never seen a place so goddamn opulent in his life. Every inch of her house screams money. From the crisp decor to the crystal chandelier that dangles above them. His entire being instantly rejects the place. It's too big. Too cold. Too clean. The giant Christmas tree in the center of the foyer looms over them, decorated to clinical perfection. Every cell in his body wants to go back out the door.

He looks at Heather with his jaw clenched, trying to make no expression. She's doing an equally bad job at hiding how awkward this is. She offers to take his jacket from him, hangs their coats up in some fancy closet.

"Uh, you want the tour or should we just go to my room?"

Billy remembers why he's here. Looking around would only suck his soul right out his body, waste precious time. "Your room sounds good."

Heather guides him up the white staircase that winds around their skyscraper of a tree. Billy keeps whipping his head around to take in how fucking huge this place is. He could _never _get used to this.

She takes him down a wide hallway past several white doors until they reach one with a wreath on it. When she opens the door he feels instant relief. For every bit of sterility her house possesses, her room contrasts it entirely. It's huge for sure, but it's human. It's lived in. And she was right, it is kind of messy. Heather quickly starts picking up her clothes off the floor. Tosses them in a wicker laundry basket by her four poster bed.

"Uh, sorry about the mess."

The blinds are closed. Its dark except for the bright multi-colored Christmas lights lining her walls. A Christmas tree strung with homemade ornaments in the corner. She actually has a fireplace, one red stocking hanging down from it. Her room is more festive than his whole house.

Billy glances around further. Sees a shelf full of trophies. He moves closer to inspect their labels. Swimming. Track. Science Fair. First place. First place. First place. "You ever lose or what?"

"Second and third place ones are in the closet." He hears her say, accompanied by the sound of a camera flash. Billy spins around. Heather's pointing a Canon camera at him, strap around her neck.

"Well, look at you." He takes a step towards her, grinning. "Y'know I'm pretty sure I had a dream about this once." Another flash goes off. "Except I was holding the camera and you were naked."

Heather snorts, head popping out behind her camera. "Yeah, keep dreaming."

"Most of my dreams about you have already come true." He smirks at how she flushes at that. "You into taking pictures now?"

"Yeah." She nods. "Used to take them constantly back home. Just got a bunch of new film."

Billy looks back at her trophy shelf, then makes his way further down the wall. For some reason he can't help but keep exploring. He sees framed photographs, including a portrait of Heather. She's standing in front of a mirror, doe-eyes looking into him, camera in hand by her waist. A self portrait. He looks at the other prints. Stark black and white. Ocean. Twisting oak trees. People's haunted faces, lens peering into the depths of them. He doesn't know anything about photography but he knows he likes this.

"You took all these?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." He bites the inside of his cheek. Doesn't know what to say. "So you're some kind of art freak or something?"

"Of course you'd call me that." He hears her laugh.

"You ever do something with them?" He slides his thumb over one of the frames. "Like show people?"

"Only my dad. It's just a hobby." She comes up beside him. "I mean I'd_ like _to. My dream would be to travel across the U.S and take pictures. Like maybe sell them to a magazine. I dunno."

That idea makes him weirdly...happy for her. "You should."

Heather shakes her head, camera gliding up to her face. She takes another snap of him. No flash. "My mother would freak."

He puts his palm over the lens. "Why?"

She looks up at him cautiously, lets the camera hang from her neck. "We've had this whole plan for ages about me going to Harvard next year. For law. I mean, Daddy's okay with me taking photos for fun. He used to own a newspaper back in Connecticut, so I guess he kind of gets it. The travel thing though? No way." She pauses. "Harvard's the best choice."

This doesn't surprise him. Of course she'd go to a school like Harvard. But she looked way happier talking about travelling. "Do you _want_ to go to Harvard?"

"I think so. I don't know. They're right about it though. I should go." Her voice sounds clear but her eyes aren't selling it.

Billy gives her a firm look, gaze unwavering. "You should do whatever the fuck you want."

She clears her throat, folding her arms. "They would disagree."

"That why you're such a teacher's pet? Gotta impress mommy and daddy?"

She bristles at that, taking a step away from him. "I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

"Alright..."

She looks down, fiddling with the aperture on her camera. "And what are you going to do? I mean, after we graduate."

Billy hates it when people ask him that. He shrugs, glancing back at her pictures. "I dunno, get into a trade or something. Like be a car mechanic maybe."

"Oh."

"I don't really give a fuck as long as it pays the bills."

She hesitates. "Of course. Well, that's good."

There's an awkward tension. Billy gets a feeling that whatever he said was the wrong answer.

Heather slips her camera strap off her neck. "Music?" She crosses the room and kneels down next to a large stack of records on the floor. Billy notices that she's got black crates of them lining the whole wall. This girl is a hoarder. He admires the arch of her back as she leans forward, the curve of her hips.

He makes a beeline towards her, sits down at her side, immediately getting in her personal space. Close enough to make her blush. "Whatcha gonna play for me?"

"Something tolerable hopefully." She peeks at him with a smile. Her fingers flip through the records.

"If it's Gary Numan, I'm leaving."

Her fingers stop. She pulls an album up. "Roxy Music?"

"Ehh." His hand slides down her back. "Only know like one song. They're okay."

She pretends she doesn't notice his hand slip up under her sweater, gliding up her spine. She's so warm, smooth. "Avalon is a good album."

"Play it." He leans over to kiss her neck. She lets out a soft _mmm_.

"You're really distracting."

"You're really fun to distract." He pulls back to look at her. Her eyes are dreamy, sensual. They make his mouth go dry, his pulse speed up. She puts the record on, black disk spinning with a crackle. The pop notes of "More Than This" trickle out. It's cheesy as hell but he'll take it.

"This is the poppiest song on here by the way. It gets better."

"Well, thank god for that." His fingers skim under the clasp of her bra.

Her lips pull into a grin."You're so touchy-feely."

"You want me to stop?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

"No." She glances at his mouth, leans in to kiss him. It's quick and sweet. A good start.

She suddenly pulls away, moving on hands and knees towards the Christmas tree.

"Where you going, baby?" He croons, grabbing her leg from under her, dragging her across the oriental carpet to him.

She squeals, kicking his hand away. "I want to turn on the tree lights!" She scoots back towards it. Her arm reaches up and flicks a few switches behind the branches. The tree lights up like a rainbow next to her, flickering, colored light playing across the room.

"Yeah, you setting the mood?" Billy teases, crawling towards her. He backs her up til she's belly-up on the floor under him. His palms are on either side of her head. His knees trapping her legs together. He loves the feel of her under him. The lights dance over her face, ethereal and hypnotic. Her tongue steals out to slide anxiously over her lips.

He dips his head low to her ear. "You good?"

"Yeah." She nods.

"What do you want me to do?" His mouth brushes her earlobe.

"Kiss me." She breathes, hands sliding up his back.

"_After _that."

"Uh...I don't know."

"You a virgin?" He whispers, lips pressing into her neck.

"No."

He's surprised. He lifts himself up to look at her."Why're you so skittish then?"

"You um-kind of..overwhelm me." She giggles, looking away.

She's too adorable. "Oh, _sweetheart -" _He oozes dangerous charm. "-I've barely even started."

She bites her lip, glancing over him. "That's what I mean."

"You know I'm only gonna make you feel good."

"I know."

"You ever come before? You seem like the kinda girl who's never come in her life."

She scoffs, clearly offended. "Yes, I've come before."

"Yeah?"

"Of course I have."

He has to ask, though as usual he's probably better off not knowing. "Did Harrington make you come?"

"We never actually got past kissing." She admits.

Billy's never been so relieved, feels his whole body relax into her. "_ Really. _He didn't make a move on you?"

She shakes her head. "He was a real gentleman. Really sweet. Took things slow."

Billy rolls his eyes. "There's no way that guy's straight. Only a fruitcake would keep his hands off a girl as pretty as you."

Heather grins. "Thanks...I think."

"So, Heather.."He leans in close, lips on her ear again."..who made you come?"

She bursts out laughing, tries to wiggle away from underneath him. He grabs her wrists, pinning her against the carpet with a wild grin. She squirms a little before giving up. "I can't believe you're asking me this..."

"You have to tell me or I'll just hold you down forever."

She thinks for a second. "I mean, my ex boyfriend back in Connecticut. I think I came once."

Billy snorts, leering. "If you're not sure, then you definitely didn't."

"I've come by myself before." She shrugs.

Billy's eyes light up, his cock twitching in his jeans. "Yeah? You touch yourself?

Heather smiles shyly. "Sometimes."

"Fuck, that's sexy. You think of me when you do it?"

Her mouth opens in shock. "_Billy! _"

He smirks, releasing her wrists as he kisses her hard. She twines her arms around his neck. She's already breathing heavily. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he writhes into her hips. Their kisses are frenzied. Needy. He's so hard for her. Billy tears his mouth from hers to murmur in her ear."I wanna make you come."

"Um..."

"I know you're gonna come real good for me. You're too into me not to." He slides his hand up under her top, over her hot skin, his breath halting when his fingers find her full breast under her bra.

She gasps when two fingers brush over her hardening nipple."It's really hard to make me come."

"No it isn't." He says into the crook of her neck, thumb and forefinger gently pinching her flesh.

Her voice rises in desperation. "It's harder for girls to come than guys."

"I can guarantee that I'm going to prove you wrong on that." His tongue grazes her throat. "So wrong." His hand skims back down her belly, fingers on the button of her jeans. "You gonna let me touch you?"

"Yes." Heather whispers, fingers running through his hair.

He undoes her button, mouth greedy on hers, hand sliding over the smooth satin of her underwear. "Nice panties" He feels the hot center of her through the fabric. She's so damn wet. He rubs his fingers over the dampness, his breath ragged. "Holy fuck, were you this wet for me last time we made out?"

"Everytime I'm near you."

"Fuck..." His fingers delve underneath her panties and he groans. She's so slick. Dripping. Juices coating him. He explores her delicately, finding her clit. She gasps when he circles two fingers around it. "That feel good?" He mutters against her throat.

"_Yes _." She moans.

"You're so goddamn sexy." His mouth slants across hers as he slips a finger in. He inhales hard at the tight, wet grip of her. "You're going to feel so fucking good around me._ Jesus _.."

"Are you okay?" Heather teases.

He starts a slow rhythm inside her, finger curling against that spot that he knows drives chicks nuts. The smile on her lips shapes into a small o.

"I'm doing just fine, baby. How 'bout you?" He grins, another finger sliding in her. He kisses her mouth again. He can't _stop _kissing her.

"_Really_ good." She mutters against his lips.

He needs more. So much more. "I wanna eat you out."

Her arms tighten around him. "You do?"

"You wanna feel my tongue on you?"

She tries to hold back a moan as his fingers move in her. "Okay. Yeah. Just for a bit."

Billy pulls off her jeans with rough hands. They fly across the room and land next to her bed in a heap. Her soaked panties come off next. She yelps when he yanks her by her thighs to him, his face hovering over her wet heat. He gets painfully hard at the sight of her splayed open to him. "Make some noise when I'm doing it right." He licks the flat of his tongue up the center of her. She's already loud.

He grins up at her."You're _way _too easy. Come on, save it for the good stuff." She laughs in response, breathless, giddy.

She tastes heavenly, salt and clean musk. He's never had anything better. He keeps licking in long broad strokes, teasing. Just getting her started. Just tasting her. She spasms every time his tongue passes over her clit. He slows his tongue over it, going in lazy circles until her fingers dig into his hair. He sucks gently on her..

"That feels so g-..._oh god._.."

He sucks harder, flicking his tongue over her bud with total focus. She cries out, already getting tremors. Writhing. She's going to come soon. Billy wants to make fun of her for losing it so fast, but he holds her thighs tight, fingers digging into her flesh, making sure she stays still against his mouth. He increases the tempo, the intensity. A few seconds later she's panting, moaning in little bursts. Her hips try to jerk upwards as she comes against his tongue. He doesn't let her move, grip tightening. She's gushing so sweetly, dripping down his chin. She whimpers at the overstimulation, pushes at his head to stop him. He changes pace. Licks slowly, carefully, avoiding her clit.

"Oh my _god._" She almost sobs. She starts belly-laughing, shuddering, hands covering her face. Billy feels warm pride in his chest at her response.

"The _fuck _were you talking about?" He kisses her inner thigh. "You come faster than any girl I've ever been with."

She looks like she might cry. "That was amazing. You're amazing."

"Told you." He gives her thigh a tender bite. His head drifts back to her center. He licks slow up her pussy again.

"I don't need-"

"I'm not gonna let you get away that easy." He returns to her clit, licking softly. He slides two fingers inside of her and she covers her mouth with her palm. His tongue and fingers work in tandem together against her wet flesh and she's coming again, gasping his name, her walls clenching around his fingers. She's perfect. Billy's losing his goddamn mind.

He gets her off one more time before she begs him to stop. He wipes her slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, hauling himself up to her face, looking at her afterglow. She's so dazed. Cheeks and lips flushed. Eyes glistening. _Beautiful_.

"Merry Christmas, Heather." He says huskily, his lips brushing over hers. She breaks out in teary-eyed giggles again, clutching at him. Billy's control is slipping. He can't help but lightly thrust his hips against her leg. He's so hard he might pass out.

"You made me feel so good. I-" She suddenly freezes, palms on his chest, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widen. "My parents are going to be home soon."

Billy snorts, grabbing her hand. "You kicking me out now, baby? That's fucking cold." He places her fingers on his raging hard-on. He breathes against her ear. "See what you do to me?"

Her breath shortens. She glides her fingers over him through his jeans. He gives a soft moan at her touch, nuzzling her neck.

"I wanna fuck you so bad." He whispers harsh.

She shivers, makes a small sound of frustration, looks at the clock again. Her bliss is now nervous tension. "My parents can't know you're here."

No. She can't do this to him. "Why not?"

She lifts herself up on her elbows."I'm not supposed to have boys over alone. Especially before they've met them."

"_Seriously _?"

"Yeah. Daddy would murder me."

"So you're actually kicking me out."

"I'm so sorry." She kisses him on the cheek, eyes empathetic.

He groans, moving his hand to cup her wetness again. "Fuck, you're so ready for me though. It'll only take a minute. Trust me."

She moves his hand away from her. "Don't be pushy."

"Easy for you to say." He smirks at her, forcing himself to sit up. "You ever come that hard before?"

"No." She laughs dreamily. "My legs are jello."

"That's what I like to hear." He chuckles, sliding a hand down her leg. He tries again. "Why don't you come to my place tonight? Finish what we started."

She winces. "I have to go to a Christmas dinner thing."

This chick is a fucking pro at slipping through his fingers. "Fine. Whatever."

"I had a really good time though." Heather kisses him on the cheek again before crossing the room to retrieve her jeans.

"Yeah, I bet you fucking did." He checks out her ass peeking from under her sweater as she shimmies into her pants. He slides a hand down his face, exasperated. "You're trying to kill me, I swear to god."

"We'll see each other again." She makes her way to her vanity. Fixes her disheveled hair in the mirror.

He stands up, adjusting himself in his jeans. "We fucking better."

She turns to him, grabbing his hand. "Um, let me show you out."

He lets her. He's not sure he'd be able to find his way out of this place on his own. She guides him back down the staircase, this time in rushed steps. She opens the closet in the foyer and practically shoves his coat back in his hands. "I'll call you." Her eyes plead forgiveness. She opens the front door. "Merry Christmas."

He's about to say something mean to her but she grabs his face between her hands and kisses him deeply. He can't help but kiss her back, getting hard in his pants again. She pulls away, hand on his back as she pushes him out into the cold. "Bye, Billy." The door shuts behind him.

He's disoriented as he walks down her front steps, down the long driveway. When he gets to his car, he puts his jacket on, immediately reaching in the pocket for his Marlboros. He leans against the Camaro, lights up a cigarette. He stares at her house, inhaling sweet nicotine, trying to figure out how he let this fucking happen again. How the night ended with him having to jerk off when he gets home.

He missed out because he wanted to make her feel good. Make her come. Which really isn't unusual for him. It's a thing he likes to do for girls. A thing he's good at doing. A thing that makes him feel good about himself. But, this was different. He really _enjoyed_ being with her. Wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Felt all warm inside when he made her get so emotionally affected it by it. That hasn't happened since...well, ever. Truthfully, he would do it all again, blue balls and all, just to see her face when she comes. He's craving it again already.

He sees a pair of headlights making their way towards him in the dusk. A shiny Mercedes, turning to cruise up the Holloway driveway. He makes brief eye contact with the driver. A middle aged man, hard mouth set in a hard line. It has to be her dad. He gives Billy a double-take, looks at him suspiciously.

Billy's unfazed. He's just a guy on the side of the road. He's allowed to be here. He watches the car wind up the driveway. Sees Heather's parents exit the vehicle. Her father takes another glance at him before they both walk up the front steps and into the house.

Billy flicks his cigarette butt away, and gets back into his Camaro. He starts the engine, a weird sinking sensation in his gut. He has a horrible feeling he's going to see that guy again.

He pushes his Motley Crue tape into the deck. Looks back at her house as he has another realization, his mouth moving into an irritated smirk.

He could have come like twice before her parents had come home. She _totally_ left him hanging.

It won't happen again.


	9. i'll be so blue just thinkin' about you

A/N: what did y'all think of that last one? thanks to those still reading, i know you're out there!

* * *

Christmas arrives in a heartbeat.

Neil just got a fat Holiday bonus. Nobody starts a fight.

Neil gets drunk and plays Elvis's Christmas album on repeat. Billy hears "Blue Christmas" at least a dozen times before Neil changes the record to Bing Crosby. Then back to Elvis again.

Billy gives Susan cheap silver earrings. He gets a new winter jacket from Susan. Ocean blue. Red trim. Fits him just right. Susan says it brings out his eyes, tries to hug him after he puts it on. Billy doesn't hate how it looks on him, but he flinches at her touch.

Billy gives Max a Duran Duran tape. Max gives him thermal socks that are actually from Susan. Billy gives Neil a navy-blue tie. Neil gives Billy some extra cash. He's grateful for it. He spent almost everything he had on gifts this year.

Susan serves honey-glazed ham for dinner. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Apple pie. It's not bad. Nothing is bad.

Except that Billy feels hollow. Empty. Watches the whole day go by like he's outside his body. Like he's a ghost.

Heather hasn't called yet.

Boxing day. Billy fills up on gas and drives through thick downtown traffic to JS records. He secretly hopes that Heather will be there. He doesn't know how she'd get there unless she managed to fix her bike chain. Or actually asked her parents for a ride. His eyes scan the store for her curly hair anyways. He buys Avalon by Roxy Music on sale. Goes home and plays it. Lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He remembers Heather underneath him, coloured light shimmering over her body, the way she laughed when he teased her. He relives her in detail. Bambi-brown eyes. Soft skin. Pretty moans.

He should call her.

No. Too soon.

But maybe she wants to hang out anyways. She's obviously into him. What's the big deal?

She said she'd call him. He'll look desperate if he calls her now. Especially after he pretty much begged her for sex last time.

Does that shit even matter? As if she doesn't want him to fuck her. If her parents hadn't come home it would have been a done deal. He doesn't get why he's worried about this. He's never worried about this before. He'll call a girl to fuck whenever he wants to. They don't mind. They love it.

Don't they?

He'll even take just hanging out with her. Technically this is the longest he's gone without seeing her since his first day at Hawkins High. It's weird how easy it is to miss her in class, in his car, under his fingers.

Whatever. She'll call. She said she'd call.

* * *

It's New Years Eve. She hasn't called.

Billy's at some stupid, sweaty house party and it's an hour til midnight. Tommy and Carol ditched him to go have sex somewhere. Billy's drunk and stoned and feels nothing. Doesn't give a fuck about shotgunning a beer. Or doing a keg stand. Or whatever other high school bullshit is going on around him. The place is packed and hot. He can barely breathe. The music sucks. The girls are mediocre at best. They paw at him, wasted and pathetic. He's not interested. Why bother with fast food after tasting a delicacy? It all seems pointless.

He kind of wishes he had stayed home and gotten drunk with Neil. Sometimes that ends with a punch to the head, but he could have taken the risk. Neil's been in a pretty good mood lately. He hasn't laid a hand on Billy since November.

Billy goes out to the backyard patio-deck to smoke. Catches a glimpse of Teresa's red hair. That's the last straw. He immediately turns and heads out the front door, into the freezing night. Doesn't even know where he's going. He just has to get the fuck out of there. He's walking around the block, hands shoved into warm jacket pockets, icy air making his face sting. The streets are empty, peaceful. It's clear out, shining stars on full display. He can hear faded music from multiple houses in the distance. Billy wants to find a field somewhere, lay out on the cold ground and smoke til he feels something besides self-pity.

Billy spots a phone-booth across from a 7/11. The streetlights make it gleam like a mirage. Metal and glass beaming, beckoning. He trudges towards it without thinking. There's a phonebook inside, new, still in the plastic. Billy tears it open, skims through the pages until he reaches the H's. There are so many goddamn H's. His finger skims over Hocking. Hogan. Holden. _Holloway _.

There's only two Holloways. He zeroes in on the number for Chestnut Drive.

He finds quarters in his pocket, change from his last stop for gas. He's putting them into the slot and dialing before he can stop himself. The alcohol helps.

The phone rings three times. There's a soft croak on the other side.

"Hello?"

The alcohol doesn't numb his butterflies. "Uh, is Heather there?"

"This is she." Heather says, hoarse and nasal.

"Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?"

"Billy?"

"Hey." He feels himself smile. He's suddenly more alive then he's been all week.

"Hey!" She gives a phlegmy cough. "Sorry, I'm really sick."

"Yeah, no shit. You sound like hell."

"I _feel _like hell. But at least there's Dick Clark and egg nog." She clears her throat but she's still raspy. "So, what are you up to tonight?"

"Nothing. Jus' walking around."

"Walking around? Why aren't you getting drunk at some party?"

"I was. It sucked."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I don't go to those things usually. Except the cat shelter. They throw the best parties."

"Right." He kicks at some pebbles, watches them scatter across the pavement. "You didn't call."

"Sorry, I was busy. I went to New York for Christmas." Heather coughs again. It sounds painful. "Why didn't you call _me _? There weren't any messages from you when I got back."

"I dunno, you said you'd call. Why didn't you tell me you were going to New York?"

"I didn't think it would matter to you. I thought we weren't supposed to be serious..."

"We aren't." Billy leans a shoulder against the pane behind him, shoves his hand in his pocket. "Just wanted to see you."

"You missed me?"

Billy flashes back to buying the Roxy Music album just to reminisce.

"No."

"You totally missed me." He can almost see her grinning. She'd be touching him now if she were here.

"Not really."

"It's okay. I missed you too."

"Whatever. It was fucking annoying waiting for you." Billy hopes that sounds less needy than he thinks it does. He's boozed up enough that words are just slipping out. This whole phone call is probably a mistake.

"I'm sorry. I'm also sick you know. Kinda gross to be around."

Billy shrugs."I'd still fuck you."

Heather bursts into laughter, broken by another round of wet coughs. "_Billy. _You are the definition of a one track mind."

"Don't act like you don't want me to. Bet that's all you think about."

"Maybe I'm not as obsessed with sex as you are." She says in her usual coy way. It makes him wish he could reach through the phone and pull her into the booth with him.

"Okay, Miss Multiple Orgasms."

"_See_, this is partly why I didn't call you."

"What do you mean?" Billy knows exactly what she means.

"You're just going to pressure me to have sex with you."

"Not _pressure _you. Just help you understand what you need...on a primal level."

"_Wow. _That's so deep."

Billy chuckles, lowers his voice. "Oh, I'll show you deep, baby."

"Oh my god..."

He sighs, staring up at the stars."Look, we don't have to fuck. We could do something. Go someplace."

"Like where?"

"I dunno." He frowns. Blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "You wanna go to the winter dance next week?" He's going to regret asking this tomorrow. Definitely.

"You dance?"

"No. But there's free food and somebody'll probably spike the punch."

Heather seems skeptical. "You actually want to go?"

"No. But _you _want to. Don't you?" She has to. She's a chick. They love that shit.

"I kind of do, actually." She sniffles.

"Let's go then."

"Okay, there's just one thin-wait, hold on." He hears her muffled sneeze twice before she continues. "You're going to have to meet my parents first."

Billy swallows hard. "_Why? _"

"Well, um, they saw you and your car outside last time you were here. And apparently Daddy's already seen your car dropping me off like three times. So now they're mad at me for not telling them about you. _Also _if I go with someone to the dance, they're going to want to meet who I'm going with."

Damn, he knew that guy gave him a dirty look. "Overprotective much? Did they meet _Steve _?"

"They did."

Great. Now they have someone to compare him to.

"Can you just like...come over for dinner?" She sounds like she's pouting. Sounds like she's batting her lashes at him. "Please?"

This just keeps getting worse. "_Dinner_? That seems excessive." He digs his fingers into his scalp, grips his hair at the roots.

"We have nice dinners here. We have a great cook. You'll like it."

He rolls his eyes."The food isn't the issue here, Heather."

"What's the problem?"

Billy looks at the homeless drunk sitting on the curb outside the 7/11. Wonders if that's close to the impression he'll make on Heather's parents."I don't own a three piece suit and a Rolls Royce."

She laughs and it sounds like gravel. "It'll be fine. Just dress up a bit and be yourself."

He snorts, condescending. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll love that."

"I mean, be _nice _obviously. How hard is it to be nice? Anyways, I can't really go out with you anymore unless you meet my parents. If they see your car again and I don't introduce you they're going to freak."

So she's decided to corner him.

"Okay, fine." He mutters. "I'll meet your parents for dinner. But you better not be serving caviar, or fucking_ snails_. You know I'm not gonna touch that shit."

"Thank you. And there won't be any of that. At least, I hope not. I hate that stuff."

"Good."

They both go quiet. Billy watches his breath drift out, frost-white.

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be okay."

He's really not so sure of that. "I know."

"I'm excited to see you." Heather pauses. He hears her raspy inhale. "Wow, it's almost midnight. The ball's about to drop."

"How long?"

"Twenty seconds. You want me to count down?"

He grins soft. "Sure."

She sneezes again before starting. "Five...four...three...two..._ one_. Happy New Year!" Her voice cracks.

Billy hears a group of people screaming joyously across the street. The loud crackle of fireworks as they shoot off in the distance. Bright purples and yellows. Greens and blues. Sparks exploding and dissolving. He's seen fireworks tons of times but this is different. Special. This time last year he was at a beach party in San Diego, peaking on acid, tongue in a stranger's mouth. This moment is better than that. Less lonely. He was still lonely back then.

He'll take this. 1985. Bitter cold. Alone in a phone-booth. Talking to a sick girl he's dying to see again. Knowing that he _will _see her keeps him warm as a bonfire.

"I'd kiss you right now if you were here." Billy hears himself say.

"I wish I was."

"Me too."

More fireworks soar and pop. Red this time. Then blue again. He's going into a trance, staring at the bursting hues, hearing Heather's stuffy breathing. He doesn't mind it. It's comforting knowing that she's there on the other side.

"Billy?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'm going to go now. I'm getting sleepy. It's the cough medicine."

"Okay." He feels heavy all of a sudden. Spell broken. "I'll call you tomorrow. If you want."

"I'd like that. And if you don't, I'll call _you_. Promise."

"Cool." He smiles. "Happy New Year, Heather. Get better, alright?"

"I'll try. Happy New Year. See you soon, bye."

"Bye."

She hangs up. Billy holds the phone to his ear for a few more seconds before clicking it down in the cradle, fingers numb. He opens a fresh pack of Marlboros and leans against the outside of the phone-booth. Smokes slowly. Watches the rest of the fireworks til the horizon goes black and still, only pinpricks of stars left.


	10. if her daddy's rich

Billy doesn't know what the fuck to wear.

It's the evening three days after New Years; the night of the dinner. Billy is scanning over his wardrobe; cotton,denim, and well-worn leather. He really only has two good shirts. Button-ups. Short-sleeved. One red and one blue. The latter is one of those pieces that Susan says is _just your color, brings out your eyes_. He'll take the hint. He pulls it on, buttons it to the throat. Decides on tight jeans for pants because there's no other choice. He reaches for the hair spray, for his best cologne; starts primping.

This is fucked up. Like any amount of preparation is going to hide the fact that he doesn't belong anywhere _near _that house. That Heather should be on the arm of some rich asshole, some sweater-wearing prep. Heather made a bad choice. She can't be that bright. She's going to regret this. _Everybody _is going to regret this.

Billy's so anxious he forgets to play music on the way to her house. He drives in choked silence, hands in a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. His stomach is clenched, breath shallow. He's just one giant, defective pulse. He parks in front of her house, sits there for a good five minutes. Contemplates driving off and never speaking to Heather again.

If he can get past the front door, maybe he can act his way through this. Turn into somebody else. That generally tends to work for him; when he flirts with chicks, with mothers, anyone who goes for dick. He can make them like him, _lust_ after him if he really wants to. But talking to her dad? No one's dad has ever _liked_ Billy, let alone a wealthy one who probably already hates him.

He somehow makes it up her driveway, up her wide front steps. When he rings the bell, he glances down. Makes sure his shirt is still buttoned up. He's not about to take chances right now. He never thought he'd see the day that he actually cared.

Heather opens the door and Billy's breath catches. She's radiant. Her gold earrings catch the light.

"Hey Billy." She beams.

"Uhh...hi."

He breaks out in a sweat at the sight of her dress. Red velvet. Short. Tight. The long sleeves and high neck make it no less sexy. It shows off her strong legs through sheer nylons. Matches her lips. In any other circumstance he would tell her how gorgeous she is. How red is definitely her colour. Right now he's already so overwhelmed he just stares. Steps through the doorway like a cautious deer.

The gigantic Christmas tree in the foyer is gone. Her house is even more unwelcoming now, no holiday decor to warm it up. He keeps his eyes on Heather for solace.

"Let me grab your coat." She starts sliding it off his arms. "You look nice."

He watches her put his jacket away. Admires how she put her hair up all elegant. She seriously knows how to dress to the nines when she wants to. The cows at Hawkins High should take notes. She looks up at him with those big brown eyes, concerned.

"You okay?" She murmurs.

No.

"Yeah."

She takes his hand in hers, gives him a soothing smile. "I want you to meet Daddy."

"Okay." Billy shrugs, pulse racing, his hand wary in hers. He rarely lets people hold him like this but her skin on his feels so damn good.

She guides him through a large, plush living room. The room is warm but Billy's chilled to the bone. All he sees is hostility. Heather keeps glancing back at him. He realizes she's nervous too. It's not comforting.

A red door opens. They're in a small study that reeks of quality tobacco. There's a lit fireplace. A stag head sticking out of the wall. Plump velvet couches. A big oak desk with a swivel chair behind it, facing away from them. It's like something out of a movie. He's expecting her dad to be swilling whiskey and smoking a cigar when he turns around. Billy wants to laugh. This can't actually be happening. It's way too over the top. Too surreal. Do people actually _live _like this?

Billy tries to pull his hand away from Heather but she won't let go, just clutches harder. Like she knows he's going to need her.

"Um, Daddy? This is Billy."

The chair spins to face them. Billy was half right. Her dad's holding a whiskey tumbler, dressed way too nice for a Tuesday in Hawkins. White haired and square jawed. He's got one of those beady stares that sees right into Billy's soul. Or at least tries to. Billy's automatic reaction is to puff up his chest, anchor himself. Stare right back. Maybe it's a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't play tough. He just can't help it. He's been in too many fights to puss out at the first sign of a threat.

Mr. Holloway puts his tweed-slippered feet up on the desk, giving Billy a once-over. Sizing him up. Billy holds back a grin when he sees a cigar box open.

Billy nods, back straight as an arrow. "Good to meet you, sir." Neil's whole _respect and responsibility _training might actually be coming in handy now.

Mr. Holloway lights up his cigar, cheeks puffing, sweet smoke filling the air.

"Do you usually wear your girlfriend's jeans to dinner, son?"

Heather's squeezing his hand in a death-grip now. Billy was expecting something bad but this takes the cake. Dude's coming out swinging already.

Billy smirks, shows no signs of weakness even though he's sweating. "My tux was at the cleaners."

Heather's dad looks him dead in the eye for too long before speaking, each word a challenge. A taunt. "And where did you get that hair? The _gutter_?"

This guy clearly isn't going to pull his punches. It's a good thing Billy's used to getting torn apart.

He keeps his gaze steady, doesn't skip a beat. "Nope, grew it all by myself."

Mr. Holloway motions around his ear. "And what's with the ladies earring? You some kind of pretty-boy?"

"Had to give your daughter a run for her money." He hears Heather's soft snort next to him, feels her thumb glide over his knuckles.

Mr. Holloway pauses, exhaling another large cloud. He's not impressed.

"So you're a funny guy, huh?"

"I'm sure you're much funnier, sir."

Heather's father grins, but it's brutal. "Oh, I am." He glances at her. "Aren't I, sweetie?"

She gives a short laugh-_ of course daddy- _but she's still squeezing the hell out of Billy's hand.

"So." Mr. Holloway sucks at his cigar in contemplation. "I hear you've been driving my daughter around for weeks without even introducing yourself. Like a _coward_."

That word makes Billy's blood boil, makes his teeth clench. He exhales slow. "That's why I'm here, sir."

"And why didn't you show your face earlier? You got something to _hide_?"

"I was too busy studying." Billy says stone-faced. "Gotta keep up my G.P.A."

"_Really. _You do well at school?"

"My education is _very _important to me." Billy smiles slowly.

Mr. Holloway leers right back, clearly not buying anything coming out of Billy's mouth. "Of course it is. Your parents must be so proud."

Billy nods, keeps his expression pleasant. He has to keep a poker face, keep playing the game. It's all he can do right now.

He lays it on thick. "Your daughter's my biggest inspiration, sir."

Mr. Holloway narrows his eyes. "And what exactly _are _your intentions towards my daughter?"

Billy expected this question. He goes with the partial truth. "To take her to the winter dance next week, sir."

"And after_ that_?"

Billy thinks fast. Chooses to side-step."All I know is Heather's a smart girl. She wouldn't hang around me unless she knew I was worthy." He hopes that Mr. Holloway isn't the type to throw his own daughter under the bus.

He's not. His face lights up as he takes a deep drag. "You know what. You're absolutely right. Heather's sharp as a tack. Going straight to Harvard. Not a lot of people can say that about their daughter."

"Yes, sir. She's real great." Billy glances at Heather. She's going crimson. Probably because this is the nicest he's ever been about her. He kind of feels bad about that now. He's really not one to give praise for anything outside of his favorite body parts.

"And there's been no...messing around? No funny business?" Mr. Holloway looks at Billy with a sinister glint in his eye.

Billy bites the inside of his cheek. "I'm not really sure what you mean, sir."

Mr. Holloway leans forward."I _mean, _have you been trying to get your _paws _on my little girl? I know how teenage boys work. Especially the ones that try to hide from me." He gives Billy a sharp smirk that reminds him of Tommy. "Only ever think with their pricks."

Billy stiffens. Heather's hand goes hot and clammy in his. He can't believe he would say all that right in front of her. He's trying to catch him off guard. Make him fuck up. Well, Billy isn't going to fucking stutter.

"Absolutely not." He looks her dad straight in the eyes, unblinking. "I would never disrespect you like that."

Heather's squeezing his hand so hard it might fall off. Mr. Holloway is silent. Looks him up and down for a moment. Exhales a puff of earthy smoke.

"That Camaro yours?"

"Yes, sir."

He nods, taps his cigar ash into a silver tray."That's a good-looking car."

Billy raises his brows. This must be leading to another dig at him. "Yes, she is."

"Reminds me of my T-bird back in the day." Mr. Holloway muses.

"Nice..." Billy says slowly, carefully.

Mr. Holloway points a thick finger at him. "Take good care of that thing. Don't wrap it round a tree like I did."

"I won't, sir."

"Now." Mr. Holloway smiles at Heather, all charm. Paternal. "Honey, why don't you both go wait in the sitting room? Have some refreshments. Dinner's served in twenty minutes."

Heather breathes what can only be a sigh of relief. "Yes, Daddy." She yanks Billy towards the door. Billy glances back at Mr. Holloway. His chair has already spun around.

He's guided back to the joyless sitting room. He's not sure if people actually ever sit here or not. It feels so empty.

"Holy _shit_." Billy mutters when they take a seat on Heather's stiff couch, hands still joined. He glares at her, keeps his voice low."Why didn't you _warn _me?"

"You were already freaked out enough as it is." Heather whispers. She looks so strained. "I've also never seen him that mean before."

"Is he in the goddamn _mafia_ or something?"

"Of course not." She bites her lip. "You did a great job, though. He even said nice things about your car."

"Yeah, pretty sure he woulda shot me right in the fucking face if I didn't have that."

"Well, just be glad Daddy's a car freak."

Billy takes a long breath. Looks back at the door of the study. "Does _everyone _have to go through that shit?"

Heather's brows crease, doe-eyes in full effect. "Just everyone who doesn't go to the country club..."

Jesus fucking Christ. Billy pulls his hand away from hers. His heart starts to pound again. He's in _way _too deep now. Trapped in an episode of Dynasty. In a hell so godawful it's like it was designed for him.

And they haven't even had dinner yet.


	11. diamonds on my neck

A/N: some minor smut in this one. This chapter gets INTENSE.

* * *

Billy and Heather sit awkwardly side by side in the Holloway living room. Billy's quiet. Fuming and nervous. He wants to strangle Heather for bringing him here. _Or_ push her into the couch and punish her with his dick. He runs his eyes over her tight velvet dress, her long legs. Fucking tease. She obviously wore that little number to rile him up. Of course she chooses to wear it on the night when he can't do anything about it. Whatever. He'll teach her a lesson later.

On that probably fucked up thought, an older brunette lady in a maroon pantsuit enters the room. Heather's mom. It has to be her. Who else could it be? She's obviously not the help. She glides towards them and Billy stands up despite himself. It's weird. It's too formal. It's not something he'd usually ever do. He hates himself right now. She gives Billy a quick once-over and it's like getting knifed in the gut.

Heather stands up too, touches his arm in solidarity.

"Mother..." She says stiffly. "This is Billy."

"Hi." Billy forces his most charming smile,one that he's frequently used to much success. He stretches out his hand. Mrs. Holloway looks at his fingers for a beat too long and back to his face with eyes that scream revulsion.

Billy has never had this reaction from a woman in his life. He's stunned. He's about to drop his arm when Mrs. Holloway suddenly gives his hand a brief firm shake. Her skin is _freezing_. Combined with her cold stare all he can think is _bitch._ It's a word he's used to throwing around but he's sure he's never been more accurate than now.

"Honey, this is the boy who's been giving you a ride?"

"Um. Yes."

"Wonderful." She says with a fake smile, her eyes flitting over Billy's earring. She turns to Heather, tone stern. "Remember what we said about filler words? No umming in this house, please."

Heather lowers her gaze to the floor. "Sorry."

She puts her hand on Heather's shoulder and he swears he sees her flinch."Rosita just finished making dinner. We're having your favorite. _Caviar_." She gives Billy another chilling glance before doing an elegant turn and walking back through the doorway.

He can't stop himself from shooting Heather a look almost as severe as Mrs. Holloway's. "Your _favorite_?"

"I just tell her that so she won't make me eat truffles." Heather can't meet his eyes, tugging on her sleeve. "Caviar isn't _that _bad though."

Billy exhales hard through his nose. "Like I said. Not touching that shit."

He's through the doorway and in the dining room before Heather tries holding his hand again. He's not feeling particularly cuddly right now.

* * *

The long oak table that Billy's been sitting at for the past few minutes is way too damn big for four people. Billy counts twelve seats. This can't be where they usually sit. That would be stupid. There are multiple forks and spoons in front of him. There's a couple of lit candelabra on the table. No. Three of them. Classical music plays soft in the background. Elaborate floral arrangements in every corner. It's like they're _trying_ to annoy him.

Heather appears by his side in a blur of red and when she flashes her doe eyes at him Billy almost forgets he's pissed at her. He feels a jolt of heat when she smooths her little dress over her ass before she sits down. It hits him then that he's already tasted her pussy in this nightmare mansion. That if he plays his cards right he'll get to do it again. Go further. Fuck her in her daddy's study or something. _That _would be too perfect. He grins at her at the thought. She gives a gentle smile in return, oblivious. He stops his gloating when Mr. Holloway sits down directly across from him.

Mr. And Mrs. Holloway thankfully don't sit on opposite ends of the table like they do in the movies. That would just be ridiculous. Laughable. Not that this whole evening hasn't been ridiculous and laughable to begin with. Mrs. Holloway is sitting at the head of the table, giving Billy the iciest stare he's ever endured. It's like she's plotting to kill him. Maybe she should. Anything to get him out of this meal.

A heavy brown-skinned woman with gray hair comes up to him, balancing a silver tray . Her eyes are dark and warm and it makes Billy wish she could whisk him away to the kitchen to hide from these sociopaths.

"Caviar, sir?" She asks in a thick spanish accent.

Billy swallows dryly, eyeing the tiny black eggs she's offered him. "No thanks."

"You ever had caviar before, Billy?" Mr. Holloway beams from across the table. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. It never does.

"_No._" Billy enunciates. "And I don't plan to." He's already giving up on brown-nosing this guy. It's not like he's gonna give him a break either way.

"Hmm. Not surprised."

"No?"

"Typical for a guy like you."

"A guy like me." Billy repeats back, skin prickling in irritation. "And that means...?" He feels Heather grab his forearm under the table. A warning.

Mr. Holloway grins as he spoons caviar onto a cracker. "I think it's pretty self explanatory." He motions to the server. "A little more, Rosita."

Billy has a thousand insults barrelling through his mind as Heather's cautionary hold on him tightens. Billy bites his tongue, but her efforts to control his reaction piss him off. Does she think he's whipped or something? Not a fucking chance. He pulls her hand off him and places it in her lap. When her parents start discussing the quality of the caviar, he leans in close to her ear with a gruff whisper, squeezing her fingers.

"Unless you're planning on putting this down my pants, keep it to yourself, alright."

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets saying them. Heather's hand on his dick is _all_ he's going to think about now. His cock kicks in his jeans when he sees Heather go bright pink, fingers burning up in his. He looks over at who's now eyeing them with suspicion. Billy quickly releases her, offering him a tight-lipped smirk in return.

Billy's thrilled when he notices that a champagne flute has been placed in front of him. He seriously hopes that it actually _is_ champagne. That the Holloways aren't the type to pussy out on serving alcohol to teenagers and give him juice or something. He takes a sip. _Bingo_. He makes sure that nobody's looking again before he shoots it back in one go, trying to hide his grimace at the bitter aftertaste. It's strong. Cold and fizzy. Billy's going to need another one soon.

Mrs. Holloway glances at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. "Where on_ earth_ are Hank and Debbie?"

"They're always late." Mr. Holloway shrugs, stuffing a caviar-covered cracker in his mouth.

Heather chokes on her wine, sputtering. "Hank and Debbie?"

Mrs Holloway raises her brows. "You know they come to dinner every few weeks."

Heather is gripping her glass so tightly it might shatter. "Oh. I just uh-I just thought that um-"

"Hank and Debbie are our friends, Heather. We won't let your personal life get in the way of that."

Her _personal life_? Billy has no idea what the hell they're talking about but he's never seen Heather like this before. Before he can ask, the doorbell rings.

"Ah, that'll be them." Mr. Holloway gets up. "I'll get it, Rosita. You can put out the foie gras now."

_Foie Gras_? No. Fuck no.

He leans close to Heather again as Mr. Holloway leaves the room. "Isn't that when they like, force-feed a duck?"

Heather nods, shoulders sagging with guilt. "Sorry."

"Jesus..."

"I thought we were having salmon tonight." She croaks. "That's what I was told. I swear."

"Whatever." Billy mutters, sinking in his seat an inch. "Nothing could surprise me at this point." He notices that Mrs. Holloway is watching him again and he sits up straight as a board.

He hears mixed laughter from the next room, and comes through the doorway with well-dressed company behind him. There's a tall man. Beefy. Thick brown hair and one of those rich-people gaits that Billy's starting to recognize. His eyes widen when he sees the small blonde lady next to him. She's a _fox_. Big lips and a big rack. Tiny waist. Maybe he'll survive the night after all. At least there's eye candy.

"Billy, get up here and shake some hands for god's sake." Mr. Holloway beckons to him. "What is it with kids these days? Raised in a goddamn zoo, am I right?." He points a thumb at Billy and both he and the beefy man laugh. Billy squares his jaw and pushes back his chair, scraping it across the floor. It screeches so loud everyone in the room grimaces. He saunters over and shakes the big guy's hand with his firmest grip. Dude looks sort of familiar though he can't place where he's seen him.

"Billy, this is Hank Harrington." Mr. Holloway pats Hank on the back. "Good buddy of mine. We go way back."

Billy freezes, instantly realizing why he looks so familiar. _Harrington? _Like Steve's-fucking-_dad-_Harrington? He tears his hand away and wants to sanitize it. He was dead wrong about not being surprised. Of being prepared for the worst. They've entered a whole new flaming circle of hell now. The one where everyone's getting stabbed with hot pokers and screaming for eternity.

Hank offers him a reptilian grin that oozes condescension. Billy hates him already. "Interesting style you got there, Billy. Very...flamboyant."

"I like to make an impression." He looks over at the busty lady. She's staring at him_ real_ hard. In fact he's pretty sure she's been checking him out since she got here. Not unusual for him, but it's the confidence boost he needs right now. He drinks it up. Takes her small hand in his, drapes his other palm over her knuckles. Flashes her the same smile that didn't work on Mrs. Holloway. "And who's _this_?"

"This here is Hank's lovely wife, Deborah." Mr. Holloway schmoozes.

"Deborah, huh?" Billy's holding onto her for too long. He's getting a kick out of how transfixed she is with him. Though it's a little weird how much she looks like Steve. "Can I call you Debbie?"

It's pretty damn forward but the champagne is making being bold easy.

Deborah smiles wide. "Of course. All my friends do." She glances at her husband before pulling her hand back, flushing.

Billy almost laughs at her obvious response. He loves this shit. Chicks are all the goddamn same. On their knees and backs with the stupidest lines, the simplest touches. Chicks are easy. Fucking piece of cake. They fall for every trick in the book.

Unless they're a Holloway.

"_Great_. Nice to meet you, Debbie." Billy shoots her a sly look before turning back to the table, ignoring whatever dirty glare Hank is likely to be giving him now.

When he sits back in his seat, his glass is full again. Rosita must be looking out for him. Heather's expression is somewhere in-between _did you seriously just do that _and _kill me now_. He leans in with a cocky grin and mutters. "Aw, don't be jealous, babe. Just playin' the game." He tosses back more champagne.

"I'm not _jealous_." Heather gives a soft snort. "And what's the game? Screwing other people's moms?"

"No. At least not _yours_." Billy smirks at how she glowers at him. He glances at the Harringtons settling into their chairs, making small talk with Mrs. Holloway. He lowers his voice next to Heather's ear. "Pretty boy's parents, huh? What's next? You gonna kick me in the balls for dessert?"

Heather offers him a syrupy-sweet smile. "I'm thinking about it."

Billy chuckles. Heather's cute when she's pissed, eyes flaring and lips pursed up. He wants to kiss the strain off her face. Make her so soft she melts right under him. He just might do it. Make a scene. Who fucking cares. The night is a total shit-show anyways. Let it all burn down to the ground.

Then Rosita sets a plate before him and he has to suppress his gag reflex.

The entire concept of foie gras is ten times worse to Billy than whatever it could possibly taste like. Shoving food down a ducks stomach til it nearly bursts. Pretty much straight up torturing it. All for the sake of eating it's swollen liver. It's fucked up. Like all these stupid millionare delicacies. Like all these stupid millionare people.

Billy watches as Heather takes her roll of white cloth napkin and smooths it out onto her lap. He follows suit. Mr. Holloway lifts up his glass.

"A toast. To 1985. The best year of our lives, am I right or am I right, Hank?"

"We're getting old, Tom." Hank clinks Mr. Holloways glass as everyone leans forward to cheers.

Billy clenches his teeth and joins in with his half empty drink. Heather's mom doesn't clink glasses with him. He polishes off the last of his champagne, praying that the buzz will give him strength.

Billy glances at Heather to make sure he's using the right fork before he starts picking at his food. Everyone's digging into the duck liver and praising how tender it is. Billy doesn't touch his.

After a while, he's zoning out, chewing absently on bread. He doesn't taste it. They're talking about Christmas in New York, something about vineyards in France. Horse racing. Stock markets. What's new at the country club. He's not sure how much time has passed when Heather touches his arm again. Billy jerks his head up. Mr. Holloway seems to be waiting for him to say something.

"I _said_, what are your plans after graduation, Billy? You going off to college?"

Billy gulps. They're finally at the part of the night he was dreading most. "Uh..."

Heather jumps in. "Billy's going into the automotive industry, daddy."

"The automotive industry?" Hank narrows his eyes. "What part? Sales?"

Billy clears his throat, pulse racing. "I'm not really sure. Mechanic, maybe."

"So, you're not going to college."

"No."

There's dead silence. Everyone's staring at him. He can feel a bead of sweat dripping down his spine.

Billy wants to thank Mrs. Holloway when she breaks the tension. "Heather's going to Harvard, Hank. Isn't that wonderful?"

"No kidding!" Hank chuckles. He points his finger at Heather. "You know, I've been trying to push Steve in that direction, but-well, you know how he is. Hopefully he'll get his grades up..." He drifts off awkwardly, frowning. "Well, he'll be fine, I'm sure."

"How is Steve?" Heather inquires, voice tentative.

"He's been better." Hank looks directly at Billy for a second.

Another awkward round of silence. He's sure Heather regrets asking that. Why the fuck would she ask that?

"Don't you worry your pretty head, Heather. He'll be fine." Hank continues. "Steve's a good kid, but even Debbie and I said you were too smart for him." He laughs before glancing at Billy again. "But sometimes who we end up with is a matter of plain luck, whether we deserve it or not. Isn't that right, Billy?"

Billy has no response for that, just tightens his fingers around his dinner knife. _What an asshole._

For a long while there's only the clank of cutlery against china. Mrs. Holloway and Debbie's eyes are still burrowing into him. For entirely different reasons. Steve's mom is practically licking her lips while Mrs. Holloway is probably imagining his head on a stake. He feels like a caged animal. They're all going to either take pictures or throw garbage at his head.

He needs to catch his breath. Take a break from the agony that is this dinner. Also, he needs to toss his foie gras somewhere.

He waits until no one's looking at him when he forks the duck liver into his napkin, and shoves it into his jean pocket.

"Where's the bathroom?" He whispers to Heather.

When they make eye contact he can tell she's struggling almost as much as he is. She points towards the exit.

"Down the hall and then to your left."

Billy stands up, chair screeching again. "'Scuse me." He heads towards the door without looking back, feeling every eye in the room on him.

* * *

Billy hides the liver in the gaudy flower display at the end of the hall. For a second he feels bad for whoever's going to have to clean this up. He's so dejected he decides he doesn't care. Fuck this place.

He finds the bathroom. It's huge and opulent in typical Holloway fashion. He's almost surprised that the toilet he pisses into isn't made out of gold. He looks in the mirror. Runs a hand through his styled locks. He looks….well, like trash. Like complete fucking trash. He never realized just how much until he had to compare himself to an entire table of people wearing the latest Armani catalogue.

There's no way he can step foot in this house again. Sure, pussy is great. Heather's especially so. But is it worth this bullshit? No chick in the whole damn world could be worth this level of suffering.

Billy exits the bathroom and walks past the open door of the kitchen. He backs up to look inside. Rosita's facing away from him, pudgy arms slaving away on some type of dessert. Maybe she'll help him drown his sorrows.

"Rosita." He hisses, leaning against the door frame. She doesn't turn around. He tries again. "_Rosita._"

She looks behind her, smiles with kind eyes when she sees him.

"Got any more of that wine?" He mutters with a hopeful grin.

She shuffles towards him, looking concerned. "You drink so much already..."

"I could drink a helluva lot more than that right about now. Trust me."

"_Tan lindo_." Rosita reaches up and pinches his cheek like he's five. For some reason he's okay with it. "Very handsome."

Billy beams,teeth tugging at his bottom lip. "Does that mean I can have more wine?"

"No."

"How 'bout a shot of tequila?"

"No!_"_ Rosita chuckles. She pauses, scanning over him for a moment. "Miss Holloway talk about you all the time."

_Shit. _Billy doesn't want to hear this right now. Not when he's contemplating climbing out a window and booking it across the border. "She does?"

"Si. Every day. You be nice boy to her, no?"

"Uh…" He swallows. "Sure."

She laughs at the fear in his eyes, patting his cheek. "I give you juice."

Billy leaves the kitchen, glass of apple juice in hand, more conflicted than ever.

* * *

When he settles back into his seat, everyone's staring at him again.

"How was the foie gras, Billy?" Mr. Holloway grins.

_Fuck._ He must fucking know.

"Best I've ever had." Billy deadpans.

Mr. Holloway sips casually at his wine glass. Hank mutters something in his ear and he laughs while giving Billy another once-over.

Thankfully, they all ignore him after that for the next five minutes. Billy picks at his vegetables, his mind going numb. He kind of wishes he never told Heather to stop touching him. He's never felt more alone.

He glances over at her. She looks back, offers him a little smile. She moves her head near his. "How are you doing?"

Like he's going to be honest and say that he's thought of fifty escape plans since he got here. "Rosita's nice."

Heather's eyes light up. "I love her _so_ much."

All Billy can think of her is that she just shoved apple juice into his hand and patted his head like he's a fucking toddler. But, he sort of gets it. Compared to Heather's parents, Rosita is Mother Teresa.

"It's almost over." Heather whispers.

"What?" He was expecting four or five courses. Hours of being prodded and poked and stared at.

"Daddy has to get up early for a big meeting tomorrow. Dessert's next, and then it's over." She smiles.

Billy could cry tears of joy. "Cool."

He can feel himself smiling inadvertently, already picturing himself in his car blasting Slayer and driving into the distance. His prayers have been answered. A miracle. Then he feels eyes on him again.

It's Debbie. She's looking at him like he's tonight's main meal. Maybe he shouldn't have hit on her like that. He was only playing. Flirting to him is like a hobby, something to make him feel like he's alive, worth something. He's not _actually_ gonna bone her. Sometimes chicks take everything the wrong way.

"_Billy._" Debbie purrs, elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand. "Have you ever been to the Hawkins country club?"

Everyone's gawking at Debbie now, eyebrows raised. Billy's heart starts drumming in his chest. "No?"

"You should come out. We'd _love_ to have you."

She must be insane. It's the only explanation. "I dunno, Debbie. Not really my scene."

"I'll say." Hank mutters, holding his drink in a vice-grip as he takes a swig.

"Oh, you'll love it. There's croquet, a tennis court, even _polo_."

Billy nearly bursts out laughing. "Uh..._yeah_. Sounds great. I'm real busy though."

"Doing what?"

He gnaws at his bottom lip. "High school?"

Mr. Holloway butts in. "Come on, Billy, what's a day of missed homework to a mechanic? Pretty sure you don't even need to graduate for that.' Both he and Hank break out into hearty chuckles. "You should come. Spice the place up with that interesting..._hair_ you got there."

Billy's analyzing Mr. Holloways face. This must be a set-up. Another thing to make him look like a fucking idiot in front of Heather and all the rich assholes of Hawkins.

"I'm good."

"Yup." Mr. Holloway elbows Hank with a smirk. "Just like I thought."

"Thought what?"

Mr. Holloway looks him dead in the eye, grinning sharp. "Coward."

Billy can feel the entire room holding their breaths. Everybody's waiting for his response. Billy's cornered. Because Billy never turns down a challenge. And it's really too bad because this one's going to fucking suck.

_"Jeez. _Fine. I'll go." He shrugs. "Just didn't realize I'd be in such high demand."

"_Excellent_. How about when this damn snow melts? We'll take you then."

This should be a nice offer. Pleasant. A thoughtful invitation. It still only feels like a threat. Also, it implies that Heather and him will still be together when the snow melts. And that's like...months from now. He never thought that far ahead before. He's only thought -no, _obsessed_\- about as far as getting inside her. After that it's just nothingness. That's normal for Billy. He's never even gone out with any chick for more than a few weeks.

"Alright."

"We'll make a man of you yet, Billy-boy." Mr. Holloway jeers.

Billy just stares at his plate, says nothing. He feels so dead inside. Devoid of comebacks, of wit, of fire. He's just...exhausted.

Heather's looking at him with soft eyes. Reaches out and touches his hand underneath the table. Billy squeezes her fingers without thinking before jerking his hand away again. He's so fucking confused right now. He can't let her keep getting into his space all emotional and shit. He's already been way too weirdly intimate with her tonight, letting her hold his hand for like a goddamn year. He's not a bitch like that.

But damn, does she feel good.

* * *

Dessert is real nice. Some sort of milky custard thing. Tart and sugary. Best experience of the whole night.

Then it's standing up to say goodbyes and shake everyone's hand again. It's awful. Hank grips his hand so hard he nearly shatters his bones. Debbie actually_ hugs_ him, fingers sliding up his back until he has to squirm out of her clutches. Mr. Holloway pats him on the shoulder and tells him _I didn't know my daughter was into fruitcakes_. Mrs. Holloway doesn't touch or talk to him, slithers away like he's poisonous.

Hank and Debbie go home first. Then it's just Billy standing outside in the cold by the front door, smoking a cig, waiting for Heather. He's going to say goodbye but not in front of her stupid parents.

When she comes out, closing the door behind her, Billy tosses his cigarette out onto the gravel in the distance. Grabs her to him and kisses her rough. He wants her so bad. It's been weeks and he's starving. Famished for her.

She gasps."Billy-I"

"Shut up." He growls. He holds her tighter to him, mouth needy, pulling at her bottom lip before sliding his tongue over hers. His mouth moves to her ear. "I can't _believe_ you fucking put me through that."

"I'm so sorry." She moans when he nips at her neck. "I didn't know they'd be so weird. I can't believe how mean they were to you. I'm really sorry."

"Fuck it, it's fine, but next time you're coming to my house." Ideally he's never going to set foot in this place again. Unfortunately, doing that would likely mean losing the sweet thing that's in his arms right now. Life isn't fair.

Billy skims his hand up her thigh. "What was _really_ mean was you wearing this little thing and not being able to get my hands on you." His fingers travel under the hem of her dress, feeling up her ass through the sheer stocking. She writhes against him with a breathy giggle.

"I'm not even showing any skin." She whispers, kissing him soft, slow. Arms snug around his neck.

"It's tight as hell though. I can see fucking _everything_." He grins against her mouth. "Not even wearing a bra, are you?" He slides his other hand up and drags his palm over her breast, thumb stroking over the nipple hardening under red velvet.

She's breathing heavy, giggling some more. "My boobs are small enough to get away with it."

"You're not getting away with anything. Not while I'm here." He pinches her nipple, kissing her hard again as his hand glides under the waistband of her stockings. Under the lace of her panties. He groans a little in her mouth when his fingers find the taut flesh of her ass.

"Billy, we-"

"You honestly think you'd wear that without me trying to cop a feel? You really don't fucking know me." He squeezes her some more, plain greedy. He's rock-hard now. "Fuck, you feel so damn good."

"Billy.." She whines. "This is a really bad place to do this. Daddy's gonna come and check on us."

"Fuck him." He mutters against her mouth. His hand slides further down, til he can feel the slick of her pussy from behind. "_Jesus, y_ou been sitting in this mess all night?"

Heather slants her mouth over his, writhes against him more, lets his fingers graze over wetness. He's about to finger her when she stiffens up in his arms, looking behind him with wide eyes.

"_Billy._" She hisses, yanking his hand out of her stockings, wrenching herself out of his grasp. Billy glances over his shoulder.

Mrs. Holloway is poised behind the nearest window. Just stands there looking at them for a few seconds before retreating into the dark.

"Oh my _god_." Heather presses her hands over her face. "She's gonna kill me."

"Whatever. From that angle, she probably only saw me kissing you."

"Still!"

"Oh come _on_, they won't even let me fucking kiss you?" Billy scoffs. "I'm sure they know I've done that and more by now. At least your dad definitely does."

Heather's biting her thumbnail, staring at the ground. "Maybe it'll be okay…"

"Jesus, calm _down_. C'mere." Billy wraps his arms around her. "No wonder you're such a fucking spaz. Actually, after tonight, I'm surprised you're not more fucked up than you are."

Heather laughs against his chest, but it's still choked with tension. "Was that your attempt to be nice?"

"I never try to be nice."

"Good, because that was awful."

He smirks, just holds her against his chest for a few moments, letting her settle down. She doesn't really, still tense in his arms, but it still feels good. So good he forgets how soft and stupid he's being.

Heather's the one that pulls away. "I should go inside. They're probably going to give me a lecture on the birds and the bees or something."

"Huh. Well, hopefully I'll see you again after this." Billy teases, though a part of him actually is wondering if they fucked up everything within five minutes of being alone together. Who knows with these people.

"It'll be fine...I think."

He kisses her hot and quick on her parted mouth. "I'll call you, okay? And then we'll go to this fucking stupid-as-shit dance or whatever."

"Okay." She smiles, backing towards the door. "Bye, Billy."

"Bye." He turns to head to his car.

"Billy?"

He glances behind him. "Yeah."

"Thanks for coming."

"Yeah, it's cool." Billy shrugs, hands digging into his jacket pockets. "See ya."

Billy strides down her front steps, takes a few paces down her driveway before looking behind him again. Heather hits him with another one of those pretty smiles of hers before she's gone.

There's something deeply wrong with him.

Billy's never looked forward to a dance this much in his whole damn life.


	12. Chapter 12

So, this story isn't really getting enough feedback or attention for me to want to continue posting here, so if you want the rest of the story you'll have to go over to AO3/archiveofourown. It's under the same username, redjadequeen and with the same title of Harden My Heart as well. The next 12 chapters are up there so please feel free to check them out.

Hope you'll enjoy it there!


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